


The Unfinished Business of the Gray Son

by GraySonOfGotham



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidents, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Seduction, Baking, Batfamily Demon AU, Benevolent Spirits, But Flashpoint didn't happen, Christmas, Clones, College Student Jason, Crack, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Drabbles, Dragons, Drawings, English Teacher Jason, Flashpoint (DCU), Fluff, Ghosts, Hospitalization, Humor, Incubus Dick, Interdimensional Travel, Invasion of Privacy, Jason's freckles™, Kid Fic, Letters, M/M, Machines, Maids, Martha Wayne is Joker, Minor Character Death, Morally Upstanding Demon, Murderer, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Rescue, Secret Admirer, Secret Identity, Sleepwalking, Slice of Life, Stalking, Succubi & Incubi, Suspicions, Switching bodies, Teacher-Student Relationship, Thomas Wayne is Batman, Time Travel, Triplet Jokers, Triplets, Unfinished Prequel, Wedding, Werewolves, coming home, family reunion kinda, raising a kid together, saving people, shadow demons, unfinished works, wedding mishaps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-06-13 19:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 58,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraySonOfGotham/pseuds/GraySonOfGotham
Summary: Here's a whole bunch of stories I've started and never finished. Some are just snippets of scenes, others are starts of stories. If I decide to actually write one someday (very unlikely) I will delete it from here. But enjoy some of my random stories.Please do not take these as prompts and write them! They are my ideas, and I would like to keep them as such. However, if there is something you really want to write and you know you will finish it, please ask, and I may grant it to you! But please ask first!If there is something you'd really like to read, you may also request, and I will see if I can fulfill that request. I cannot make any promises, however, as I stopped writing a lot of this because I lost interest in it.(Tags added as I post)





	1. The Ultimate Date Chaparones

**Dick/Jason**

**In which Dick and Jason act as overprotective brothers, sneaking around to "oversee" the dates of Tim and Conner, Damian and Jon, and later, even Bruce and Clark. Their family is not amused.**

* * *

****“Jason! Jason! Jason!”

Jason heard Dick screaming his name the minute Dick turned the corner and started running up the hall.

Dick bolted into the library, jumping onto the sofa Jason was sitting on and tackled him back. Jason’s book fell to the ground, and Dick sat on his stomach, hands on either side of Jason’s face, squishing his cheeks together.

“Jason! You’ve got to help me!” Dick said, breathing hard.

Jason frowned at him the best he could. He probably looked like an angry pufferfish. He tried talking, but his words came out all jumbled.

“No, no,” Dick said. “You don’t understand! It’s an emergency!”

Jason tried to tell Dick to ‘get off me, you stupid oaf’, but it obviously did not translate.

“Jason, I can’t do this by myself!” Dick whined. “I need someone’s help, it can only be you!”

Finally, Jason twisted his head out of the way, glaring up at Dick. “What the fuck, Dick?” he asked, pulling an arm out from under Dick’s legs and rubbing his cheek. “What are you talking about? And get off of me!”

Dick climbed off of Jason, and Jason went to sit back up. Then, Dick lay down on his lap, trapping Jason under him again. Jason rolled his eyes while Dick sobbed loudly into the cushions.

“Dick.”

Dick rolled over onto his back. “Jay!” he gasped. “I need your help!”

“Then can you _tell_ me what’s wrong?” Jason asked, showing his obvious frustration.

Dick took a deep breath. “Tim’s going on a date.”

“So?”

“ _So_?” Dick asked, sitting up so abruptly Jason flinched. “He’s our baby brother, Jay! He’s- He’s only eighteen!”

“He’s an adult now, Dick,” Jason said, reaching over to grab his fallen book. “Just like you and I. He can do whatever he wants.”

“But, Jason! You don’t get it,” Dick said. “He’s going on a date! With a _boy_.”

Jason’s eyebrows rose at that. “…And?”

“And don’t you want to know who it is?” Dick asked, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Not particularly.”

“It’s Conner. Kent,” Dick said. He waited a beat. “Jason, how are you not outraged by this?”

“Because I really don’t care who Replacement’s dating, Dick.”

“Tim’s taking him on the yacht ride tonight. Alone.”

Jason’s eyes snapped up. “ _Alone_ alone?”

Dick nodded gravely. “Just them.”

Jason snapped his book shut. “Is this the first date?” he asked.

Dick nodded.

“Nope, nope, not okay,” Jason said. “Who knows what’s going to happen on their little escapade? What if he kidnaps Timmy? Oh, no, that’s not happening.” Jason turned to Dick. “We have to do something.”

“That’s what I said!” Dick exclaimed. “Poor Tim. He’s not going to know what hit him!”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed. “Okay. What are you thinking we should do?”

Dick’s smiled. “I thought you’d never ask, Jaybird!”

~

“Wow, it’s really quiet out here,” Conner murmured, staring out over the ocean.

“Yeah, it is,” Tim agreed.

“Reminds me of Kansas,” Conner said. “But even more quiet, actually. On the farm, there were always crickets, the wind, Ma and Pa Kent bustling around the house. Out here… nothing.”

“Kind of eerie, isn’t it? I mean, we’re so close to the city, yet… we can’t hear it,” Tim said.

“I like it,” Connor said. He smiled at Tim. “It’s private out here. It’s like we’re finally alone.”

Tim laughed quietly, resting his head on Connor’s shoulder. “Hm, I like it too.”

Above them, at the helm of the yacht, Dick and Jason glared down at the couple.

“They’re going to kiss,” Jason hissed.

Dick clasped a hand over Jason’s mouth. He pointed down at Connor, gesturing wildly.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you _hear_ them?” Jason asked. “They think it’s completely silent. If Connor could had his super hearing on, he’d have done something about it already.”

Dick sighed. “I guess.”

“So what’re we going to do about the inevitable kissing?” Jason whispered. “For all we know, it’s going to end up with him sucking out Tim’s soul!”

Dick made a face at that. “I don’t- I don’t think it will be _that_ drastic, but you’re right. We can’t let Tim get too emotionally attached to him. Tim’s going to end up heartbroken, I just know it. Nothing ever goes right with dating aliens.”

“Agreed.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

Jason shrugged. “Whenever I want to stop something, I just jump out of wherever I’m hiding and start shooting people.”

Dick frowned. “That’s not a great approach, Jay.”

“Well, I never thought I’d be staking out a _date_ , Dickie.”

“Wait, shh! They’re talking about something else again!”

Jason gasped. “Not talking, Dick! They’re _arguing_.”

They both leaned forward to get a better look at the couple. Tim had taken his head off Connor’s shoulder and was making sharp gestures while talking.

Connor sat up in his lounge chair, a frown on his face as he listened to Tim. Then, he responded, also gesturing sharply. Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes before crossing his arms and turning away from Connor.

“So they’re _not_ going to kiss?” Jason asked.

Dick grinned. “Looks like it,” he said. “To a job well done!” He gave Jason a high five.

* * *

**Not done, obviously, mostly because I did not know how to keep going with this, haha.**

**~869 words**


	2. The Shadow That Needs No Light

**Bruce/Clark**

**In which Clark is not Clark Kent, but just Clark the benevolent ghost. No one can see him, no one has ever seen him, until he meets Bruce Wayne.**

* * *

 

He was a free spirit.

Quite literally, actually. He was dead, and he was a ghost. But he wasn’t one of those angry, vengeance seeking ghosts, or those that spend eternity chained to one place and looks eternally sad. No, he was happy to be a ghost. He wasn’t really sure how it came to be, or who he was in his past life or anything, but he didn’t really care.

He also wasn’t sure how long he spent wandering the Earth, but it was really nice. He had seen so much change. Small towns becoming huge cities, people rising and falling from power, wars lost and won. Some things made him a bit sad, like the glaciers melting, the rainforests disappearing, the dying races of certain animals, or the starving children in Africa. Some things made him happy, like watching a young couple swinging a small girl between their arms, watching the rare prodigal son returning to his parents, or witnessing a beautiful, well thought out proposal.

Over the years, he had traveled the entire world. He went from place to place, soaring over Mount Everest, taking in the swirling snow and biting wind that did not hurt him at all. He dived to the bottom of the Marina Trench, where he couldn’t see much, but he _felt_ so, so many wonders.

He found out really quickly that no one could see him, no matter how hard he tried. He was a bit upset about that, actually, he was kind of upset for many years, but then he realized that he could touch things. He could feel the solid table, he could pick up the fork, he could move the dust collected on the mirror.

Yet, unlike all the stories about ghosts, he didn’t purposely scare people with his abilities, he tried not to interfere with people’s lives generally, but sometimes, he would.

Small things, usually. Bringing back an escaped balloon, rescuing a stranded kite, moving an especially heavy rock for a young child. But sometimes, there were more drastic things that he couldn’t help but take part in.

Once, he was floating through a part of a small town late at night when he heard screams. Someone had taken a woman’s purse and was running down the street with it. He watched as the man neared. He slowly floated down to the sidewalk and stuck out a foot, laughing when the man tripped over seemingly nothing.

He casually plucked the purse from the man’s arms with almost no effort, and dropped it back into the amazed woman’s arms.

Or the time he helped a distressed mother lift a car off of a trapped child. Or the time he rescued a kid’s poor dog who had ran off, right into the icy lake.

But there were some things that he couldn’t save. He was quite upset about those things, but after a while, he came to peace with the fact that he couldn’t save everyone.

It was a car crash. A drunk driver, and a young man. The drunk driver was immediately killed, but the young man was knocked unconscious. He couldn’t do more than pull the man out of the car and wait for the ambulances to arrive. He had guiltily flew along to the hospital and waited in the corner as the man drifted in and out of critical condition. Once he was stable, he felt a sense of relief wash through him.

He was about to leave the hospital, but one last glance at the young man made him stop. He floated over to the man’s bedside. He pressed two fingers to the man’s forehead, and he was attacked by images flashing by.

Gasping (though he couldn’t breathe), he stepped back. _That_ certainly has never happened before. Tentatively, he pressed his fingers to the man’s forehead again.

It was almost like the man was _dreaming._ The doctor had said that he was in a coma, but what was the man dreaming about? There was a farmhouse in a place he didn’t recognize. There was a woman there and a dog.

Feeling a bit guilty, he pulled back. He looked at the comatose man and stepped back. Before leaving however, he looked at the clipboard with the man’s information. There, at the top, was the man’s name. Clark Kent.

He glanced at Clark, playing the name through his mind. He smiled a little.

As he floated out of the hospital, he decided to honor the man he couldn’t save. So he took on the man’s name, not Clark Kent, but just… Clark.

Two years passed, and Clark Kent remained in the coma. Clark would visit the man every once in a while. Once, he even saw the woman that he saw in Clark Kent’s dream there, by his bedside.

Most of the time, however, Clark Kent’s room was empty, except for himself. And sometimes, Clark would press his fingers to Clark Kent’s forehead and see what the man was dreaming about this time. Clark had been curious about his new ability and had tried it on several other coma patients in different hospitals, young and old. There was no same effect, so Clark always came back.

This time, Clark Kent was dreaming of a girl named Lois. She was a strong willed woman, and she was quite pretty. Feeling that the dream was a bit intimate for him to be peeking, Clark slipped away. As he floated away from the hospital, he heard a gunshot.

Whirling around, Clark followed where he thought the sound came from, two streets over. As soon as he found the alleyway, there was another gunshot, and a scream.

Clark saw the murderer run as a man and woman crashed to the ground. Their child was screaming and crying. Torn between comforting the child and chasing down the murderer, Clark just floated above them in shock.

That was the first time Clark had witnessed a murder. Police sirens were nearing, and Clark couldn’t do anything but watch. He watched as the two bodies were taken into ambulances as the boy screamed and cried for his parents. The murderer got away as well.

Clark never forgot the pain in the boy’s eyes as he was dragged away from his parents’ dead bodies. He child could not have been older than ten. So young, and now, so broken.

Over the next few years, every time Clark went to visit the comatose Clark Kent, he would search for the boy he saw that night. He didn’t know the boy’s name, or anything about him. But Clark looked.

Until one day, Clark went to the hospital three months after his last visit only to find Clark Kent’s room unoccupied. With rising worry, Clark searched the entire hospital, but he did not find the man. Had he finally awaken from his coma?

Finally, Clark used one of the hospital computers when no one was looking and found Clark’s file. _Transferred to Smallville Town Hospital._ Another quick search, and Clark found where the man had been relocated. He flew over there quickly, and touched down in Clark Kent’s new room.

The man did seem to look a little better. Maybe it was because he was closer to home. Clark had recognized the fields and vast spread of land from Clark Kent’s dreams. Clark stood in the corner of the room for a while, taking in the new room. He even opened the window and let the afternoon sunlight pour into the small room, bathing the small bed in warm sun.

Out of curiosity, and sheer boredom, Clark spent a couple days exploring the small Kansan town, finding many wonders he’d never thought would be holed up in this tiny part of the state. It was standing in front of the farm house he’d seen in Clark Kent’s dream that he finally made peace with his guilt.

Clark put his hand on the Kent’s beat up mailbox and finally decided that Clark Kent would probably get better here and wake up soon as well. And that was the last time that Clark visited the man.

But for whatever reason, Clark wouldn’t stay away from Gotham. At first, he always thought that it was because Clark Kent was there, in the hospital. But now, he still found himself taking short stops in the city whenever he passed over.

It confused Clark to no end for a long time. But eventually, he just stopped thinking about it and spend some time in the city. He honestly did not mind it. Clark did not know how many years passed like that, but it was a long time.

He nearly had every brick of Gotham mapped out. He knew the place better than anywhere else on Earth. One day, however, while he was flying the outskirts of the city, he came across a large mansion in the distance.

Slowly following the winding road, Clark crossed the iron gates and hovered in front of the intimidating manor.

He circled the entire perimeter of the house, but found nothing too interesting. It was well taken care of, sure, but it seemed like no one was living in it. Clark heard no footsteps inside the entire manor, and Clark could hear _really_ well.

Ignoring his usual rule of interfering with people’s lives, he slipped inside. As he imagined, the manor was empty, but it was kind of odd. The kitchen was recently used. There were a small pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and something baking in the oven. A glass of water had been set on a counter nearby, and there was condensation on the glass.

It was certainly questionable. Walking silently through the halls, Clark could feel that the very house itself was old. Yet, Clark had never noticed it until now. It was set so far apart from the rest of Gotham, almost hidden it seemed.

Then Clark heard footsteps. They were growing louder, nearing the kitchens.

Clark quickly followed. He popped through a wall and saw a man. He was dressed nicely, and he walked with a certain air of authority. But it was kind of odd. The man had an apron tied around his waist. He went into the kitchen, and Clark studied the man’s face.

He was kind of old, not super old, but there were several streaks of grey in the man’s hair. He seemed weathered down by his years, a bit tired. The man pulled out a tray of cookies from the oven and let them cool on the counter. Meanwhile, Clark watched as the man washed the few dishes.

But Clark still felt uneasy. He could have sworn there was nobody in the house. So how had the man just _appeared_?

So Clark stayed behind and followed the man around the kitchen while he did little tasks. The man was making lunch, it seemed. Just a sandwich. He set the sandwich and plate of cookies on a tray, as well as a cup of water.

Then he carried it out of the kitchen.

Definitely odd. It was almost as if the man had made the food for someone else, and he was delivering it.

Clark followed, naturally. The man came up to a wall, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote, it seemed. He pressed one of the several buttons and the wall swung open, silently. The man then walked down metal steps into a lit tunnel. Clark followed, taking in the tunnel. It didn’t seem like an old secret passage, but one built recently.

The walls were cool stone, and there were bright, florescent lights installed above their heads.

The man kept walking, seeming to know where to go. He finally came out in a chamber, a large chamber.

It was like the tunnel, dark stone, lined with metal platforms here and there. In fact, it was a large _cave._

“You really should eat something, Master Bruce.” The man Clark had been following spoke to another figure that had been hunched over some hunks of metal. He was working so silently that Clark didn’t even see him at first.

“I’m not hungry. And I need to finish this.”

“You can finish later, Master Bruce,” the man said, with a very firm no nonsense voice.

The second man, Master Bruce, sighed and put down his tiny screwdriver. “Cookies, Alfred? What am I, four?” Despite the biting remark, he picked up a cookie and bit into it.

“Sandwich first, Master Bruce,” Alfred said.

Clark watched the banter between them. It seemed friendly enough, but there was a certain air of respect between them. While Alfred called the other man “master”, it was clear that there was no need at all.

Clark watched them work for a while, but then he got bored and went to explore the cave instead. Clark vaguely heard Alfred leave a while later, but he didn’t follow him out again. Instead, Clark was weaving through the tunnels. They were long and stretched all over the place. One was under a body of water, another going even deeper underground. And still one more led towards Gotham City. Clark never bothered reaching the end of any of them, but it confused him. Why did the two men have such an elaborate system of tunnels underground? Was traveling above ground not so much easier?

Clark eventually found his way back to the main section of the cave. The second man, Bruce, was still working hard. Clark watched for a while, but he got bored easily. He really wanted some answers because it was the most exciting part about Gotham he’d found so far, but he also didn’t want to stay and watch Bruce tinker with some engine forever.

So Clark settled for doing flips in the air while waiting for something exciting to happen. Unfortunately, Clark hasn’t always been the most careful of people (or ghosts). Usually, when he swept over crowds of people and accidentally knocked over someone’s hat, people blame the wind. Or if he knocked over a couple books on the bookshelf at a local library, he could easily put them back before anyone noticed.

But when he was doing consecutive flips in a room filled with seemingly expensive equipment, it was a bit of a dumb move on his part.

At one point, Clark’s arm flung out too far and he hit one of the metal balconies hard, and he winced as the loud clanging sound echoed through the cave. And Bruce had frozen, staring at the spot Clark was floating, almost like he could see him, but Clark knew quite well that no one could.

Bruce slowly turned away and sat down in front a large array of computer screens. Tentatively, Clark drifted down by his shoulder to watch, this time being careful not to touch anything.

Clark watched as Bruce winded through the last hour of security cameras. Everything seemed normal to Clark, except the clanging from the cave. Then, Bruce noticed movement in one of the hallways of the manor. The corner of the rug had been kicked over, like someone had absently walked into it, but did not notice and left it overturned.

Bruce rewinded that a couple times.

Then, Bruce typed in a few more commands and something different appeared on the screen. He didn’t find anything there. Another few commands. Still nothing. Finally, Bruce seemed to have a moment of revelation before he slowly typed a command. The cameras changed again, but this time, Clark saw that there was something new on the screen.

And he wasn’t the only one who saw it.

On the screen, the security cameras showed some sort of wispy blob moving slowly through the manor, going through walls, flying around the kitchen, overturning the corner of the carpet, and finally following Alfred into the cave. It showed the thing moving all over the cave, and lightly touching this and that. Then, it spun around and around in one corner of the cave before finally hitting the metal balcony and abruptly stopping.

Bruce switched to the live feed. The blob was currently hovering over his right shoulder, just floating there. Clark was a bit stunned. He had never shown up in cameras or in mirrors or _anything_ before.

And when Bruce’s hand whipped out and sliced through him, Clark was just a bit fazed by it. It didn’t hurt or anything. But now that Bruce was facing Clark, he could see him quite clearly.

The man seemed to be staring straight at him, frowning slightly, eyes narrowed and eyebrows creased together. But that wasn’t what shocked Clark. He recognized those eyes.

They weren’t filled with pain and grief anymore, but they were the same eyes, Clark knew it.

Gently, without thinking, Clark reached out and stroked Bruce’s face. The man recoiled, his chair hitting the desk of computers. Clark quickly backed up too. He almost never touched people. It wasn’t that the feeling was unpleasant for him or anything, but because people would get scared when seemingly nothing touched them.

Bruce glanced back at the screen, then at the spot where Clark was.

“What _are_ you?” He asked, mostly to himself it seemed.

But to Clark, a million possibilities flew through his mind. Someone could finally see him. Maybe he finally wouldn’t be alone.

Excited, Clark grabbed a stray pen from the ground, ignoring Bruce’s gasp. He also found a stray sticky note that had lost the stickiness long ago.

But slowly, Clark wrote, ‘ _Hello. My name is Clark.’_

“Clark,” Bruce said, sighing. He rubbed his eyes. “Alfred’s right. I’m going crazy.” He turned off the monitors and stood up. He loosened his tie and tossed it over his chair. Bruce then walked through a couple tunnels before coming to a small bedroom.

Clark followed, upset. When Bruce took off his shoes and got onto the bed, tossing his shirt onto the ground and reached to pull the blanket over himself, Clark pulled back, holding it out of his reach.

Bruce watched his blanket float in front of him with wide eyes.

“God help me,” he muttered. “What the hell?”

He reached for his blanket again, but Clark let it drop to the ground instead, pooling over the cool stone ground. When Bruce sat up to get it, Clark pushed him back down. Not hard, but not too gently either. Just… firmly.

“Hey!” Bruce struggled a bit, but could not throw off Clark. Finally, he stopped struggling. “Okay, _Clark_.” Bruce rolled his eyes, and Clark could read his meaning. “What do you want?”

Clark didn’t bring the pen or note with him, so he couldn’t really answer. Instead, he picked Bruce’s blanket off the ground and started dragging it from the room.

“You want my blanket? Okay, there’s a whole closet in the manor! You can take one from there, you know!” He yelled after Clark. When the corner of the blanket disappeared around the corner, Bruce groaned and got up, running after the blanket, shirtless and shoeless.

When he finally turned the corner, the blanket was lying on the ground, unmoving. Confused, Bruce bent over to pick it up. Just then, Alfred turned around the other side.

“Master Bruce? What are you doing?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bruce straightened quickly. “I- My blanket was-”

Alfred’s eyebrows shot higher.

Bruce shook his head a little. “Never mind. I’m going to take a nap.” He started back towards his room slowly. When Alfred disappeared into another part of the cave, there was an insistent tug on the other end of his blanket, in the opposite direction. “Damn it, Clark. I want to sleep.”

* * *

**An interesting concept, and I really love supernatural elements in my stories, but I don't think I'll finish this one. I've already written a ghost JayDick story, so I think I'm good with ghosts for times' being. So I might not end up writing this one, but I do kind of want to know how it ends. I also like the title I chose, though it doesn't really mean much yet.**

**~3,283 words**


	3. There Comes A Time

**Dick/Damian**

**In which Damian is sent into an alternate dimension, and while trying to get back to his world, strikes up a secret relationship with that Grayson, all the while avoiding the tiny, katana-wielding Robin of that world.**

* * *

 

Damian seems to have bad luck when it comes to time-related accidents. This is the _fourth_ time he’s been sent forward or backwards in time. And it is starting to get on his nerves.

He had been lucky the first three times.

The first time, he’d been thirteen, and he had been with the Titans when it happened, so they were able to get him back with a bit of help from Batman and Red Robin. The second time, he was fifteen, and it was all Jason’s fault. Had the idiot been _paying attention,_ he wouldn’t have needed back-up, and Damian wouldn’t have been trapped in some stupid time-loop for three months. The third time was three years ago, at age twenty-two. He was helping his father fix a machine when something went wrong and he was briefly zapped into the future. It had been one of the weirdest experiences for Damian, and he refused to tell anyone what had happened in those three hours.

But today, it was his own fault. No one had been at the Manor. Bruce had kicked everyone out for a week, claiming that everyone deserved a break. He and Alfred had gone to Caribbeans, while Dick, Barbara, and a couple of their friends went to Hawaii. Jason disappeared off the face of the earth completely, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to do that.

Tim decided to head to Texas, for a reason that was completely beyond Damian.

And Damian himself? He opted to stay close to home. He had gone to New York City, spent a couple days there, visited Jon in Metropolis, before coming back to Gotham just to spend some time in his own apartment, by himself.

However, an “urgent” emergency at one of the Wayne labs required him to pop in for a couple hours. It wasn’t something so bad that they surely couldn’t handle themselves with a bit of common sense, but Damian didn’t have anything to do anyways.

At the labs, the scientists developing a new formula for purifying water and had run into some interesting issues. Damian spoke with the lead scientist, who explained the phenomenon to him. There had been in unexpected reaction. When added to polluted water, the formula started breaking down, and while it did eat away at all of the harmful particles in the water, it also ate the water, and the glass, and the gloves of the scientist.

Right now, the formula is being contained in a large area by a special force field, where it had eaten through two computers, a chair and several stacks of paper. It couldn’t gnaw its way through the metal floors, thankfully.

Damian approached the force field with the lead scientist.

“It-It wasn’t like that before!” The man gasped.

Damian looked at him sharply. “What wasn’t?”

“The force field,” the scientist turned pale. The room had been cleared of people earlier, and so there were no people inside, aside from Damian and the lead scientist. In fact, all the others had gone home, seeing that it was past dinner time. “It was blue… but now it’s-” The scientist screamed and hit the ground, smoke rising from his white lab coat.

Damian whipped around. The force field suddenly seemed to have sprouted limbs. It had two purple arms of zapping electricity waving around. One of them had struck out the lead scientist, and now its attention was pinned on Damian.

It struck out and the first few times, Damian dodged it easily enough. But it seemed to be able to calculate his movements and its hits started coming closer and closer. Once, it grazed the side of his lab coat, and the purple substance started eating away at his coat. Growling, Damian tossed the coat into the air and the arms of the force field grabbed it and shoved it into itself. The coat disappeared.

In its moment of distraction, Damian searched for a weakness in the force field. While the force field was keeping the formula inside of its perimeters, the formula seemed to have taken control of the field and was using it to feed itself.

The arms headed for Damian again. He grabbed an office chair and swung at the arms. The two tentacles grabbed the chair, also consuming it.

There was no immediate way to stop the force field mutation. When the arms came at him again, Damian dove and grabbed the scientist, who was lying unconscious on the ground.

Thankfully, the doors to the lab had been left open, and Damian was able to push the man through the door and push the button to close the door as a purple arm curled around his ankle and yanked him back.

Damian squeezed his eyes shut as he was shoved into the main body of the force field.

He had expected it to feel like he was being eaten alive, but instead, he felt a warm, buzzihg feeling wash over him. It was kind of pleasant, like all his senses had been muted and his skin just kind of tingled. But the feeling only lasted a couple seconds.

Then the mutation spat Damian back out.

“Urgh!” Damian landed on cold stone. His palms stung from the rough collision, and he was thankful he didn’t hit his head.

“Damn it! I swear, if that was a bookshelf or something, I’m going to smack someone!” A voice shouted from quite far away.

Damian groaned and opened his eyes. His eyes adjusted to the dim lights, and he gasped. He had been transported to the Batcave?

But there was something different about it. Damian didn’t really know what was different about it, but there _was_ something off.

Heavy stomping approached and Damian turned his gaze to the stairs.

A rather angry looking Red Robin stomped down. “It’s a freaking man this time! What’s next? A car? A space ship? Might as well throw the entirety of Gotham down here!”

Damian’s eyes widened a bit. Tim was not the Tim he knew now. No, he was a lot younger. About sixteen or seventeen. He didn’t move as Tim approached him.

Tim sighed and knelt down. “Hey, I know you’re probably confused as hell, but it’s okay. I’m here to help. I’m Red Robin, and you seemed to have gone through some sort of transporter that brought you to the Batcave. What’s your name?”

Damian didn’t answer. Had he gone back in time? Or was this another dimension? Or maybe he actually died again and was watching his life flash past his eyes? Or he was in a coma and hallucinated the whole thing?

He looked around the cave again. The dinosaur and the giant penny were missing. As well as several costumes in the glass display from over the years, and a many other trophies they’d collected over the course of growing up.

“Hey, mister?” Tim put a hand on his shoulder, and Damian’s first instinct was to scoff and push it off. But Tim did not seem to know who he was.

“Uh, sorry,” Damian said, pitching his voice a little higher. “Overwhelmed at the moment.”

Tim smiled tightly, a clear sign that he was really stressed. “I understand. Do you remember anything?”

Damian got an idea. He and Tim had gotten over their differences years ago, but he still liked pulling pranks of the older Robin. And since his Tim was away on vacation, he would need all the help he could to get back to his own world, or time, or consciousness even.

“There was this experiment that went wrong, I think. The formula started consuming everything in its wake, and we put a force field around to contain it. But I think the formula animated the force field and it grabbed whatever was moving and ate it, which unfortunately was me,” Damian said, playing the part of a terrified civilian.

Tim patted his shoulder. Then, Damian heard the doors to the Batcave open, and someone started approaching. A minute later, Nightwing walked in.

“What is it this time?” Dick asked. “I stowed the chair away in the attic, but and the lab coat I put away for later investigation.” He finally noticed Damian. “Oh, hi.”

Tim stood. “Stay here with Mister…?”

Damian cleared his throat. “Conner is fine,” he said. He saw the slight twitch in Tim’s smile. If Damian wasn’t wrong (and he clearly wasn’t), Tim was at the age where he had been pining excessively over a good friend of his, the Superman clone, Kon.

“Nightwing, please stay here with Mr. Connor while I go find Batman to help me with this. I’ll also bring down some tea… or coffee?” Tim asked as he headed up.

“Coffee, please,” Damian said. He watched as Tim strode out of the cave, and doors closed securely behind him. Then he stood up. He strode over to the computer and sat down, quickly typing.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? You’re not allowed to touch that!” Dick flipped down and landed at his side in moments. “How-”

Damian didn’t look up from his furious typing. He muttered under his breath. “You’d think the archives would have more information on inter-dimensional travel, but no.”

“Sorry? Hey, who are you?” Dick reached forward to yank his hands from the keyboard, but Damian swatted at them.

“If you’re not going to be helpful, Grayson, go away. It’s funny teasing Drake, but you’re too oblivious anyways, so it’s just sad to pull the same joke on you,” Damian said.

Dick sputtered for a few seconds before something clicked in his head. “Dami?”

“No, I’m you from another dimension. Yes, Damian, now go away or help me out.”

There was a moment of silence. “Okay,” Dick said, surprisingly. He hunched over behind Damian.

It was so surprising, Damian even stopped typing and looked at him. “Just okay? No questions or anything?”

Dick shrugged. “I trust you.”

Damian shook his head. “You shouldn’t. I could be some evil robot for all you know. But I’m from another time, or another world, not too sure on that yet, and I was pulled through some portal and I need to get back.”

Dick laughed loudly. “Okay, okay. Again, I trust you.”

Damian tsked. “You’re an idiot, Grayson.”

The doors of the Batcave opened again. This time, a tiny figure walked in, leapt over the railing and landed on the ground.

“Father, I need-”

The tiny figure stopped short when he realized that the man sitting in the chair was not his father.

Robin, in all his colorful glory glared at the man and then at Dick.

“Who are you?” He snarled. “Are you another one of Nightwing’s pesky friends?”

When both men just stared at him, little Damian growled. “I demand to know who you are!”

The older Damian’s lips pulled into a sneer. “Damn, you’re annoying,” he muttered. He shook his head at Dick. “How could you ever put up with him?”

Dick chuckled and pulled Robin into a hug. “No, he’s cute. Tiny and adorable and a little ball of raw anger.” Dick was punched in the jaw.

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you!” The chair was spun around and Damian found a batarang pointed in his face.

“Robin!” Dick scolded, snatching the batarang away. “Stop it! He’s… a guest. He’s my friend, okay? We don’t terrorize people, and you know that!”

The two Damians looked each other up and down. “Not much about him is really terrifying,” the older Damian scoffed.

Dick glared at him. “You’re not very nice either.”

“Never have been, never will be, Grayson,” Damian said, spinning back around to face the computer, hitting Robin with the back of his chair in the process.

“Why is he calling you Grayson? Only I can call you Grayson, Grayson! Who is he?!”

* * *

  **I do rather like this AU, though. This might be one I will write someday in the far future. If anyone would read it?**

**~1,978 words**


	4. A Gift From the Universe

**Dick/Jason**

**In which... I'm not too sure. I don't remember this one. It's kinda cute though?**

* * *

 

Jason waited, a smile etched onto his face from excitement.

He had fluttered around the small house nervously all day, straightening old photos, rearranging already perfect flowers, picking at specks of nonexistent dust. He wanted the house to be perfect when Dick came home.

Jason had cooked all day as well, making all of Dick’s favorite foods. And it was almost time. Dick’s plan had landed half an hour ago. He had called before his flight, telling Jason not to bother coming to the airport because he wanted to pick up a surprise for him.

Jason had reluctantly agreed.

Now, he was looking out the window where flurries of snowflakes drifted around, chasing each other across the sky. As he watched and waited, ornaments on the large Christmas tree reflected light from the merry fire, which gave off the scent of smoky burnt wood, though it was not unpleasant.

Jason fiddled with the red apron nervously, balling it up over and over again in his hands. He was waiting for the Christmas turkey to finish cooking. He was waiting for the snow to stop so he could see further. He was waiting for Dick to step out of a car and walk up towards the house. Jason felt like he’s spent his whole day waiting.

It would be the first time Dick comes home in three years after being away at war. They had decided to get married right before Dick left, enjoying a tiny ceremony with a few friends and a couple family members. Few approved of their relationship. Even now, they mostly need to keep their relationship a secret.

They had written each other letters all throughout the time Dick was away, occasionally managing a call, if Dick had been lucky enough to get his hands on a phone. But phones were expensive, and Jason had saved up for a long time to buy one.

Jason couldn’t wait to see Dick again. He was finally coming home. For good, to stay with Jason for the rest of their lives. Jason has waited three years to finally start his life, and finally, he can be truly happy.

Jason watched as a lone car slowly crawled up their street. Jason’s heart pounded. He jerked out of his thoughts, squeezing the apron tightly. The car stopped in front of the house. The door opened, and someone stepped out.

It was hard to see Dick through the snow and under the thick coats, but it was him. Jason watched as he took a single bag out of the car, waved and thanked the driver before turning towards the house. He paused a moment, taking in the building before starting up the snow covered path to the house.

Jason tossed the bunched up apron, a gift from Dick, onto the couch, and took a couple deep breaths. Then, the door open.

Jason watched, his breath caught in his throat as Dick stepped into the warm house.

He was bundled up tightly in clothes, a scarf wrapped around his neck and covering the lower half of his face. But his blue eyes were visible still.

Jason ran over, grabbing Dick by his cold shoulders, and yanked the scarf away and buried his face in Dick’s chilly skin. Dick gave a surprised laugh, shoving the door closed with his foot and dropping the bag before hugging Jason back, his breath tickling Jason’s ear.

Jason didn’t know what to say. He had so many things he was trying to get out, but none of it would move past his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes as he pulled back, taking in Dick more closely.

He had grown a little taller, and his shoulders were definitely broader, maybe even more than Jason himself. Snow dusted his dark hair, but his eyes were still as bright as Jason remembered them.

“Hey, Jay,” Dick said softly. “I’m home.”

Jason pulled him in again, cupping Dick’s face in his hands, and kissed him hard. It had been too long.

“I’ve missed you,” Jason answered quietly, pulling back just enough to whisper that.

Dick chuckled lightly. “I know. You never fail to mention it in your letters. But I’m home now, so that’s all that matters right? And I’m not leaving again.”

Jason nodded, just barely. “I won’t let you.”

* * *

**This one can be seen as complete? But I think it was supposed to be angst, as it was definitely not finished. Based on the title I had chosen (which I have no idea what it means anymore), I cannot tell if it was supposed to be happy or sad. Damn, I really thought Dick was going to die there. Hm. This is one I definitely won't be writing, sorry.**

**~720 words**


	5. Clowning Around

**Bruce/Jokers**

**In which there are three Jokers, triplets. And as if three weren't enough, the eldest, John, decided to try out a cloning machine, on himself.**

**THIS IS A STORY IN THE TRIPLETS AU I NEVER FINISHED SO I LEFT OUT.**

* * *

 

Jay said it was a bad idea to try again.

Jack said it was probably a bad idea to try again.

It was exactly why John tried again.

He was so sure this time. It had been over a year since he had tried the machine again, and John had been making calculations and modifications over and over again. He could not see what could go wrong.

John only meant to clone himself. And only one of himself. But he had decided to take a quick bathroom break before getting to the actual cloning. He left the machine to warm up.

That was his first mistake. His second mistake was making so many changes to the machine that it looked completely different from the original designs.

So when curious and nosy Jack walked into _John’s_ room, a family size bag of hot Cheetos puffs in one hand and a two alarmingly red fingers on the other. He spotted the machine, now half its original size, in the middle of John’s room.

Now, knowing Jack, he _probably_ assumed it was harmless, seeing his innocent, dear brother Johnny had it in his room. He also _most likely_ assumed that John would let him try it anyway. And he _possibly_ knew how to work it.

And so, Jack, with his Cheetos dusted fingers pressed the start button while standing in front of the scanner. He continued eating while watching the machine work, oblivious to the computer working behind him. Then, just as Jack started getting bored of waiting for a reaction, John walked in.

It took a moment for him to process all of the above, and he went scrambling for the computer. But the processing was complete.

And out of John’s closet, where the _other_ half of the machine was hidden, walked a bunch of Jacks, the same in every way down to the red stains on his fingers.

And before John could react, two of them leapt through the open window into the street outside and the others walked out of the room.

John growled. “Stay here and don’t move,” he snapped at Jack before running straight out of the room. He found Jay lying on the ground in the living room, but had no time to bother with whatever he was doing.

“Jay, help me round up the clones!”

Jay did not respond.

John made a frustrated sound, grabbing the nearest clone, and had him tied up in no time, much to the clone’s anger.

“Jay!” John yelled. “Get the fuck up and help!”

Jay sat up robotically. His eyes looked vacant, but he stood and did what John asked. John had more urgent things to deal with than whatever mental breakdown Jay was currently going through.

They got the three clones in the living room rounded up, but the others had ran out. John cursed under his breath. He had not counted how many clones there were. About eight or nine, it seemed. That was a fucking lot.

John had to think. There was no way he could do this alone. It was him against a crap ton of his brother’s clones. And it was hard enough to deal with one Jack, let alone several of them. But that was not even the part that worried John the most.

The reason John had been working on the machine in private, to the knowledge of no one except his brothers, was because he could never get it quite right. There were always some sort of problems, and this time, John was sure he had gotten it perfect. But then again, what if he did not?

Just then, someone knocked on the door. John frowned, and headed towards the door, peeking through the peephole first. He sighed and swung the door open.

“Lost something?”

On the other side of the door stood Batman, with two Jack clones thrown over his shoulder. John pursed his lips. He stepped to the side and let the Bat in.

“If I’m not wrong,” Bruce started, letting the two unconscious Jacks down on the couch, where Jay mechanically started tying them up and set the against the pile of other clones. “Those are both Jack?” Then he eyes landed on the other three, who shared the same lewd grin through the gags. “And… so are those. What the fuck is going on here, John? Do you have more brothers than these two?”

John sighed. “I’ll explain later. There are more of them. Please, please help me round them up.”

Bruce frowned for a moment. “Fine.” Then he looked at Jay, who sat beside the Jacks and stared at the wall with a desolate expression on his face. “What’s wrong with Jay?”

John shrugged. “Dunno. He’s been like that all day.”

Bruce started towards Jay, but John grabbed him. “After we find the other clones please?”

Bruce was a little hesitant but agreed. As they climbed through the open kitchen window, Bruce turned to him. “Did you just say _clones_?”

~

It took them three hours to gather up all the Jacks. There were nine of them total. The sun was starting to rise by the time they had gotten them all.

John found one in Harley’s apartment, another one with Eddie, and Bruce found a third ready to drive a truck into Arkham, and the back of the truck was filled with firearms. John had no idea where the clone had gotten so many of them in such a limited amount of time. Then, just when they were sure they had searched all of Gotham twice, Bruce caught another one loitering outside of a bar in the Narrows.

And just as the sun rose, John and Bruce sat in front of a very large group of Jacks, frowning.

Then John turned to Jay, who was sitting in the kitchen, the same depressed look on his face. “Where’s Jack?” He asked. “Jay! Where is Jack?”

Jay blinked twice. “He’s in your room.”

John frowned. “No, he’s not. _Where is he_?”

Jay seemed to snap out of his stupor for a moment. “Jack’s gone?”

John was trying very hard not to explode right now.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Is there- Is there a chance he’s one of _them_?” He gestured to the unconscious group of Jacks.

John swallowed. “I certainly hope not. There will be no way to tell them apart.”

“You’re kidding, right? There has to be _some_ way,” Bruce said.

John shrugged. “I haven’t figured out the flaw this time yet. As far as I can tell, they’re perfect clones. So if Jack were one of them, he’s a dead man.”

“Wait, if Jack is one of them, you can’t just kill him!” Jay exclaimed, hurrying over.

John gave him an annoyed look. “Oh, _now_ you’re awake?”

Bruce frowned at Jay. “What happened?” He asked, his voice was soft. “You did not look so well back there.”

Jay’s face turned sad again. He sat down on the couch hard and leaned against Bruce. Bruce automatically goes to stroke his hair. Jay whimpered.

Bruce turned to John. “What happened to him?”

John rolled his eyes. “You don’t want to know.” He stood. “I’m going to take a look at the machine and try to figure out a flaw.” He walked out and left Bruce alone with Jay and nine, unconscious Jack clones.

“What’s up, Jay?” Bruce asked. “What happened? You were yesterday morning.”

Jay sat back and looked at Bruce with shining eyes. He opened his mouth and took a shaky breath. “I watched Infinity War.”

Bruce nearly slumped in relief, but he also wanted to scream out in frustration. He had not seen the damn movie, but Dick and Tim watched it last week and they walked around like depressed zombies for the next few days. It was very much unnerving.

Bruce shook his head. He had no idea what to say.

Jay whimpered. “So many dead,” he whispered. “I still can’t believe it.”

“You realize that the movie is about superheroes, right? And that you’re a real life supervillain who does not give two shits about innocent lives or the wellbeing of the heroes,” Bruce deadpanned.

Jay pulled back, looking scandalized. “How could you say that? I very much care about you and… maybe just you. And I can be as upset as I want to be about the tragic ending of the movie. I may not love heroes in the real world, but I can love my fictional heroes all I want, okay? Everyone needs someone to look up to.”

Bruce was about to deliver another sarcastic line about how he was not enough for Jay when the Jacks started stirring.

One of them groaned, the chloroform apparently wearing off. Bruce sat up straighter, his arm still tucked around Jay though.

“John, I think they’re coming to!” He yelled down the hall.

* * *

**I did say I would write this one day, I still don't know how. And if you can't tell, I wrote this the day I watched Infinity War. T'was tragic, I tell you. But anyway, jokes aside (haha), I may still write this. It will certainly clear up the triplets' bad name and explain a little further, but it doesn't influence the actual story of the series, so I left it out.**

**~1,478 words**


	6. Rescues

**Bruce/Clark**

**In which Bruce breaks a lot of glass, as both Bruce Wayne and Batman, and Superman is always there to catch him when he falls.**

* * *

 

Bruce Wayne had a bad habit of breaking glass. Most of the time, it was to slam a nearby glass vase over the head of some criminal or breaking a window for a quick escape before the police arrive, but recently, that just wasn’t the case.

It started when Bruce was late for a meeting with some other big heads of corporations, and he was still in the manor, fixing his tie while running to his car. The meeting was taking place just outside Metropolis, and honestly, Bruce was considering calling in, and telling them that he came down with some horrible disease at the last minute.

And despite being fifteen minutes late, Bruce put on his calm demeanor and walked into the meeting room, on the fifteenth floor of the building.

And of course, one of the newly hired secretaries believed that Bruce Wayne was some corrupt man, and therefore tried to kill him. It wasn’t the first time something like that happened to him, which is why security was just outside of the room, and the room was overflowed by heavily armed men in seconds.

However, with Bruce’s impeccable luck, he was shoved harshly in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards. And really, how much force does it take to push someone through a window? Not to mention, the building should probably check the durability of their windows.

So there Bruce was, falling from the fifteenth story of a building, with nothing to save himself with. As the ground zoomed towards him, Bruce gritted his teeth and braced for impact, hoping the force wouldn’t kill him.

Not even a second passed, and Bruce stopped falling, his body supported by abnormally strong arms. Immediately, Bruce whipped his head up, only to find the grim face of Superman looking down on him.

As he was gently set down in front of the growing crowd, Bruce brushed himself off, trying not to glare at Superman.

“Mr. Wayne,” Superman said, with a short nod and a small smile and wave for the cameras before flying off.

As Bruce watched him fly off, he was bombarded by questions and camera flashes. Bruce could already see the headlines of tomorrow’s newspaper.

~

“Saved by Superman, huh?” Alfred tossed the newspaper down in front of Bruce, while the man took his first sip of coffee.

“Oh, shut up, Alfred,” Bruce groaned, picking up the newspaper. Just as he feared, the headline, written in big bold letters, _Superman Makes a Multi-Billion Dollar Rescue._

Under the headline, it showed Bruce in the arms of Superman, who looked, as usual, perfect and inhuman. And Bruce was looking up at him with the most disgustingly adoring eyes. Talk about damsel in distress.

The article outlined the attack briefly, but it mostly talked about how Bruce seemed “star-struck” and “in awe of the Man of Steel”.

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” Bruce said, taking a long, bitter sip of coffee.

~

Over the course the week and a little into next week, the press was having a field day over some alleged lost love between Superman and Bruce. But eventually it died down when neither decided to comment on it.

However, that was two months ago.

Two months after that particular incident, Bruce was headed to the National Orphans Foundation charity dinner, this year held in Washington D.C. He was planning to pop in, entertain the guests and press for a couple of hours before catching a late flight back to Gotham before midnight.

“Don’t wait up for me, Alfred,” Bruce said as he smoothed down his suit. “I’ll be back soon, and be on patrol until dawn.”

“Are you sure, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked, handing Bruce his watch.

“I’m sure. Honestly, what could go wrong?”

~

It was like any other boring charity dinner. Bruce shook so many hands, exchanged formalities with so many unfamiliar and familiar faces, it was a chore. He also answered many questions of reporters who were covering the charity dinner.

As two hours was coming to a close, Bruce went to wait out the last half an hour on the roof, with a glass of wine. He could see half of Washington D.C. from here, as the charity dinner was held on the top floor of a five-star hotel.

It was also quite windy, but Bruce didn’t mind it much. He sipped his wine slowly, swirling the dark red liquid around occasionally. Washington D.C. was quite different from Gotham, which he wasn’t sure if it was good thing, but Bruce did appreciate the change in scenery.

Until he nearly gets kidnapped.

The men attacked from behind, while he was lost in his own thoughts. Bruce managed to fight off the first of them, but the custom suit made it quite hard to do any elaborate moves. After putting up an admirable fight, Bruce was dragged towards a helicopter, that he hadn’t noticed when he first came onto the roof.

His hands were bound tightly behind his back, and duct tape slapped around his mouth. He took a few punches to the jaw, but nothing too bad. As they pushed him into the helicopter, Bruce managed to get his hands on some sort of rope. As the helicopter took off, Bruce made quick work of kicking the pilot and one of his captors before they pulled out a gun. Bruce then tied the rope around one of the seats, hoping it was sturdy.

He forcefully kicked open the door and jumped, the rope held tightly in his hands, which was still inconveniently bound behind his back. The helicopter hadn’t gotten very far from the building, so Bruce swung and flew through the top window of the hotel as gunfire rained down around him.

Unluckily for him, the helicopter kept flying, so Bruce was dragged through the window again, and he dropped down into the darkness below. He tried his best to get a better grip on the rope, but as the rough material slid through his hands, he winced slightly at the harsh burn.

Suddenly, the rope was no longer in his hands, and he was freefalling.

His breath was ripped from his lungs as he rocketed towards the ground. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t breathe. And no one knew he was falling.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind as he recalled the last time he’d fallen from a building unprepared. He had taken that incident for granted and now karma was back for revenge.

The golden glare of the street lights and the honking of cars grew louder but softer at the same time, as the wind whistled past his ears.

He was going to die tonight, Bruce knew it. But for some reason, he didn’t.

The sharp whistling of the wind was silenced, the world stopped rushing by like a freight train, and Bruce felt like he could finally breathe again.

“Mr. Wayne, you seem to have a bad habit of falling out of the sky. You know, at this rate, you could be the next Superman.” A calm, comforting voice said in his ear.

Bruce was set gently on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, and he looked up at his floating savior. Their eyes met for a moment, and Bruce’s eyes narrowed at the all-too-familiar gaze of the hero.

* * *

**Ah, this is cute, but I really don't think it'll go anywhere as a fic. So yeah, this one's also a dead end.**

**~1,218 words**


	7. Wedding of A Century

**Tim/Damian? I think?**

**In which Damian is sure something is wrong with Tim marrying Stephanie, but he does not know what.**

* * *

 

Damian woke up feeling nauseous. He rushed to the bathroom and immediately threw up.

Five minutes later, he walked out, wiping his mouth, grimacing unpleasantly. He would have to talk to Pennyworth about cooking his food more thoroughly, even though Alfred was very thorough with his work.

There was a knock on the door.

Speak of the devil.

“Master Damian, you were supposed to be at the church ten minutes ago,” he said in a slow drawl with the reliable raised eyebrow.

Damian walked to his closet and took out his suit. “Why does it matter if I’m not time or not?” He asked grumpily. “I don’t have to worry about leaving the bride at the altar. I’m a groomsman.”

Alfred came in to help him, despite Damian’s protests. He held the suit jacket while Damian finished buttoning up his shirt and shrugging on the vest. He slipped his arms into the jacket, letting Alfred button that up as well and he slung the dark blue tie around his neck.

“Yes, but Miss Bertilleni would look quite foolish walking down an aisle as a bridesmaid without a groomsman,” Alfred said, briskly and efficiently tying the tie.

“Let her look stupid,” Damian muttered. He felt a slight twinge of guilt. Helena was really nice. He didn’t actually want her to look stupid, but he was having a bad morning.

“Master Damian,” Alfred warned without a change of tone, fixing Damian’s cuffs and collar. “Well, at least you are lucky your hair does not need much fixing. We must hurry now. Master Dick may have an aneurism if you don’t show up within the next five minutes.”

They drove to the church in silence.

It was the day of Tim’s wedding. He was getting married to Steph. They had been engaged for the past year, and every time they set a wedding date, an issue would pop up, so today was the first day in a year that everyone was pretty much free.

And it was actually quite a large wedding. For a recluse, Tim sure knew a lot of people.

He also asked Damian, Jason and Dick to be his groomsmen. Damian had agreed, but now that the day came, he really just wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep.

Thing was, Damian didn’t even know what was bothering him. Something just felt… off.

As they stepped into the church, the guests were arriving and about to sit down. Damian slipped into the back, where he was immediately grabbed by Dick, who marched him into the room where the men were getting ready.

There were clothes strewn across the floor, Jason was lounging on the couch, wrinkling his suit, but apparently not caring. Bruce stood in one corner, talking to Tim, who looked rather nervous, himself.

Dick fluttered around from person to person, checking to make sure everything was ready.

Alfred cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention. “I believe the ceremony is about to start?” As he said that, the wedding planner popped her head in and nodded at Tim, gesturing for him to follow her. Bruce nodded, patting his back.

Tim walked out of the room briskly, wiping his hands on his pants. As the door closed behind him, Damian saw Tim’s best man Kon rub his shoulders reassuringly, whispering something to him, and Tim nods in response, taking a deep breath.

Then, Bruce pushed the rest of them, ordering the other guys to get in their places. Damian sulked out of the room with Jason and Dick, who were arguing over something. He wanted to tell them to shut up.

Damian stood next to Helena and held out his arm to her. She gently hooked her own arm through. Though she was the oldest of the girls, and Damian was the youngest of the guys, Damian was the tallest, so he went with her.

Dick walked in front with Barbara, who would be rolling down the aisle with her decorated wheelchair. Jason had his arm linked with Cassandra, and they were whispering to each other.

Damian didn’t pay much attention to the guests or the beauty of the old church as they strolled down the carpeted aisle.

Everything seemed to passing without Damian actually processing it. He watched with blank eyes as the guests all stood and the Wedding March started playing. His eyes were glazed over, and the sense that something that felt wrong was steadily growing more urgent. Bruce escorted Stephanie, who must’ve had a beautiful dress on, down the aisle and gave her away to Tim, who was standing there proudly.

The whole thing went smoothly, maybe. Damian couldn’t concentrate. A light buzzing started in his ears. Something did not feel right. But what was it? Damian glanced around the church distractedly. Alfred caught sight of him and gave him an arched eyebrow.

Damian turned back to Tim and Steph, who were saying vows or something. Damian felt a sharp jab in his side, and he glared at Jason, had a slight frown, but his eyes were still trained on the bride and the groom.

Suddenly, there was a deep rumbling. Damian seemed to snap out of his daze with a start. “Everyone get out!” He yelled, shocking the near silent church.

The rumbling grew louder. Everyone just stared at him like he was crazy. Dick and Jason were glaring at him now. Damian felt bewildered. Did they not hear it?

Still, the noise grew steadily louder. It made Damian’s head hurt. He could _feel_ the vibrations! Why was no one running? His vision started going blurry, and he vaguely felt himself stumbling forward.

The entire church was shaking now. With a groan, he fell forward into a knee. Someone was gripping his shoulder and someone else was calling his name, but he couldn’t hear them over the shaking and the loud noise. Damian couldn’t breathe.

He wasn’t panicking exactly, but he was worried. The noise was getting to an unbearable level, and he felt like he was blinking way too slowly. His mouth felt dry.

Then, it was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice cold water over him. He gasped and his eyes opened. He was lying on his back, on the ground. Above him, hovered Dick, Bruce and Cass. Above them was Jason, Tim and Steph.

Damian sat up.

“What the hell was that?” Bruce demanded.

* * *

**That's a good question, Bruce. Exactly what I was thinking when I dug this up. I have no idea what this was supposed to be. At first, I thought Damian was pregnant, then I thought he was getting cold feet for his own wedding, then I thought he was going to stop a wedding, and now I have no idea what happened. I believe this was supposed to be DamiTim, a soulmate AU of some sort, but I really have no idea. In fact, the name of the document was 'Absolute Nonsense', so. Probably won't finish this.**

**~1,066 words**


	8. The Sleepwalker

**General**

**In which, I believe, something will happen to Bruce? He does a lot of sleepwalking, apparently. Again, no idea.**

* * *

 “Master Bruce? You should not be out of bed! Your doctor-” Alfred sighed, tucking the towel into a pocket of the apron. “Please go back to your bedroom.”

Bruce glared at Alfred from under a mountain of bandages. Crutches were tucked under his armpits, but even then, he could barely stand.

“I’m fine, Alfred.” His voice was scratchy and tired sounding. “It’s been three days. I can’t do this anymore.” Bruce tried pushing his weight from the bedpost he had been leaning on to his crutches. He grunted and eased back to lean on the bedpost again.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said tiredly. “I know you are itching to get out of here, but right now, you’re in no condition to do anything. Half your body is in casts and your doctor said the more you move, the longer you’ll have to stay in bed.” He wrestled the crutches from Bruce, which wasn’t very hard seeing that Bruce’s right shoulder and wrist were broken and he had torn the ligaments his left elbow.

Alfred helped Bruce back into his bed, leaning him against the headboard. Bruce grimaced. It had been three days ago that he was let out of the hospital with strict orders to stay in bed and take it easy for a month. Not to mention, he had to do a year’s worth of physical therapy.

Now quite annoyed, Bruce thought back to the incident a week and a half ago. Around that time, Bruce had been oddly tired, and would fall asleep for a good six hours every night after patrol, which was odd for him. Even weirder, he never woke up in his bed, even though he is sure that he managed to crawl into his bed before knocking out. Alfred had found him draped over the chair in the bat cave, curled up in the library, sprawled in front of an open fridge, and even lying in the bathtub with the water flooding the entire master bathroom.

Bruce set up cameras in his room to monitor his sleep habits and found out that he had been sleep walking a few times a week. Normally, Bruce is a very light sleeper, his mind always on alert. However, even after missing the doorway three times and running into the doorframe instead, he didn’t wake up.

Alfred had gotten into the habit of checking on him a couple times throughout the night, which made him feel a bit embarrassed, but the butler never mentioned it beyond suggesting a doctor. Bruce had refused to protect his pride. That is, until two weeks ago.

Alfred had just finished checking up on Bruce for the second time that night, and the man was still in bed, which was a good sign. However, after Alfred headed off to bed himself, Bruce got out of bed, drove into Gotham, _still asleep_. And in his silk pajamas, Bruce snored and leapt his way up across two rooftops before missing a leap and falling down. Bruce snapped awake to wind rushing in his ears, normally a comforting sound, but he also usually had his grapple.

The building he had jumped off of wasn’t crazy high, but it was a good five stories up. As he crashed into the sidewalk, all Bruce could feel was the overwhelming pain and his vision swimming before he blacked out.

He woke up two days later, in the hospital, bound tightly in bandages and encased in casts, Alfred sleeping in one corner of the room, and Dick and Damian whispering quietly in another. Soon, his room was flooded with nurses and doctors, checking his vitals and asking him questions that he was too drugged and tired to answer. After the flurry of excitement passed, Bruce was brutally scolded by each of his children (Jason and Tim were in the cafeteria) and his father figure.

A week and a half later, he is let out of the hospital at his urgent pleading, and was put on unofficial house arrest by his family as well as his doctor. Fortunately for Bruce, he was in no shape to sleepwalk anymore.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice snapped Bruce back to reality. “If you listen to your doctor’s orders, the quicker you will recover. I know you’re getting sick of your room, but you really need to stay here.”

Groaning loudly, Bruce gave in, slumping down into his pillows once more. And that’s where he spent the rest of his day, grumbling loudly. Dick popped in for a visit, but he also had business with the bat computer, so he didn’t stay long.

* * *

**I'm actually very curious what happens here. The document had been named 'Baby Bruce', so I think this was the de-aging fic I wanted to write, but what? I'm so confused. I remember rather well doing a lot of research about sleepwalking, but how does that tie in with de-aging? No idea. Again, seems interesting, intrigued me, but I probably won't finish it. However, I may write another de-aging fic.**

**~766 words**


	9. A World of My Own

**Dick/Jason**

**In which... I don't know this one either, sorry. I think Jason was supposed to wake up in an alternate universe of some kind at some point? I'm not sure.**

* * *

 “Rise and shine, Little Wing!”

Jason groaned and rolled over, his back facing the cheery voice. He was awake, but he did not want to get out of bed.

There was a loud swish and bright sunlight filled the room, pooling over his bare arms. Jason cracked an eye open and squinted at the silhouette in front of him.

“C’mon, I made you waffles. With strawberries and syrup and whipped cream…”

Jason closed the eye again. As tempting as that sounded, he was tired. His body was still sore from the night before, whatever he had done.

The bed dipped and the sunlight was cut off. He was pushed over onto his back again, and the covers were ripped from his clutches. Cool morning air hit his skin, but Jason barely flinched, reaching blindly for the covers instead.

“Jason!  Get up! You promised to go shopping with me before we meeting Steph for lunch.”

“I made no such promise,” Jason grunted, his voice rough and scratchy. Giving up on finding the stolen covers, he opened his eyes again, yawning loudly. His jaw cracked. “And tell Steph I can’t make it.”

The weight by the bed disappeared. Jason watched, half amused, as Dick grabbed his bare ankles and pulled. Sometimes, Jason forgets that Dick spent half his life running around rooftops with the Bat, and is surprised when he displays a surprising amount of strength for someone with his figure.

All 225 pounds of him slid off of the bed and crashed onto the cold wooden floors before he could react. He sat up, glaring at Dick, who crossed his arms and glared back.

“I need to get a present for Damian’s birthday, not to mention something for Alfred!  And you _know_ I’m complete shit at picking out presents!”

Jason sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Okay, fine. But only because you gave Alfie a tin of stale biscuits last time. I can’t care less what you get the little brat, however.”

Dick scoffs, rolling his eyes. But his mouth curves into a slight smile.

* * *

**Again, I believe this was meant to be angsty. It's the default for all JayDick fics of mine, but I don't remember the idea for this one... Yeah, I won't be finishing this, regardless of what it is.  
**

**~344 words**


	10. Smile

**Bruce/Joker**

**In which Bruce lives the simple life of a shadow demon. He feeds off fear of one person before drifting to another, and he gathers souls on the side. Then, enter the Joker, a human serial killer that can see Bruce when he is invisible to all other beings, that can understand the language of shadow demons, and is not afraid of him. Bruce hates him.**

**YES, THIS IS THE UNFINISHED PREQUEL TO MY BATFAMILY DEMON AU.**

* * *

 Bruce likes things simple.

When things get complicated, he just slips into the shadows and disappears for a while. Literally.

As a shadow demon, he leads a rather simple life (or death).

His days usually consist of following some poor teenager around, feeding off their fear and then moving on. Teens were the easiest prey. They are constantly paranoid, but they’re also too proud to actually tell anyone something that could be their imagination.

In hell, Bruce also had an easy job. He was in charge the soul selling business. He doesn’t actually do any of the deals or the collecting, but he makes sure each deal is collected on time and neither party is cheated.

Again, a bit boring. But Bruce doesn’t mind. It’s simple and it’s reliable.

Today, Bruce was waiting for his most recent victim to arrive back in her apartment. She was a pretty nineteen-year-old who goes to the nearby college. So far, she had brushed the previous two encounters off as a dream or the fact that she was working off of a handful hours of sleep.

Bruce was not expecting her to arrive home for another three hours when the balcony door opened. It closed with a near silent click, and light foot falls came up the hall. Bruce made himself invisible. He had not heard the jingle of the girl’s keys, as he usually did.

The footfalls walked past her bedroom.

Curious, Bruce followed, drifting out of the girl’s bedroom and up the hall.

He went into the bathroom, where someone was standing in front of the mirror. It was definitely not the girl. No, it was a tall man with green, yes _green_ , hair, and a chalk-white face. He was currently applying lipstick in the mirror, humming to himself and smacking his ruby red lips before grinning at himself.

Then he turned to leave the bathroom, only to stop at the door. He paused a moment, looking straight at Bruce.

“Oh, didn’t see you here!” He said. “But you aren’t Judy, are you? I’m here for Judy!”

Bruce was baffled. He was invisible! This mere human cannot possibly see him!

“Oh, you’re more of the silent brooding type? That’s okay. I can talk for the two of us,” the man said, smiling wider. His teeth looked unnaturally sharp. “But do you mind? I need to sharpen my knives.”

Bruce did not move.

The man’s face twisted into a frown. “Hey, shadow-man. I don’t know if you can hear me of not, but I told you to _move_.”

Bruce slowly drifted to the side.

The man smiled again. “Thank you!” He flounced out of the bathroom, humming the odd tune under his breath again.

The man _could_ see him! Bruce nearly lost his concentration in his shocked state. That human, queer as he may seem, could see him, a demon who was _currently invisible?_

Bruce floated down the hall, going into the kitchen, where the man had pulled out a couple large knives, covered in old, dried blood and was washing it in the sink. He was still humming the song.

He looked up when Bruce approached. “Oh, hey, be a dear and hand me that towel, will you? Unless you can’t hold things. It’s okay, I’ll get it.”

He took the towel off of the table and dried his knives.

 _I’m not a dear,_ Bruce rumbled to himself.

“Hm? But I’m sure you are!” The man grinned.

Bruce lost his concentration this time, materializing in all his shadowy demon glory. He had pretty much been stunned into silence.

_You can hear me. And see me._

The man inspected his reflection in his knives. “Am I not supposed to? Oops, sorry. No one told me.” He covered his eyes. “There, I can’t see you now.”

 _You can understand me? This is not a language spoken by humans. There is no human on Earth that can understand this language. Are you not human?_ Bruce asked, still not over the fact that the man could understand the archaic language of shadow demons.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m fluent in several languages. I won’t be surprised if I knew this one, hehe. And I’m human, see?” The absolutely crazy man took one of his newly cleaned knives and slid the blade across his wrist. A thick line of blood bubbled up. Then he sighed heavily. “Now I have to clean this blade again! Bad shadow-man.”

_I am a demon._

“Well, that certainly doesn’t make you any better, now does it?” He started washing the knife again, completely ignoring the fact that his own blood was mixing in with the water, swirling into the drain. “So you must be a bad person to have gone to hell. What did you do?”

Bruce didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to give any information to some puny human being he just met.

_Why are you not afraid of me?_

The man looked up, mild surprised. “Afraid? But why? You’re not scary.” He laughed loudly, the sound grating.

Bruce was a little more that ticked off now. He expanded his form, blocking off the exits and plunging the small kitchen in darkness. He levitated one of the unwashed knives off of the counter and pressed it under the man’s throat.

The man just chuckled. “So you _can_ move things! Great, you can help me wash this before Judy gets home.”

Then it suddenly hit Bruce. _You’re going to kill her._

“What did you think I was going to do?” The man asked, throwing his head back in laughter, not at all concerned about the knife pressed against his neck. “Cook dinner for her? Baby, I’m a murderer. I kill for _fun_.”

Bruce realized that this human was not normal. He wasn’t even crazy. He was beyond insane, even. No, this man was not afraid of anything, not death, not punishment, no anything that was possibly stronger than he was.

“Now, do you mind moving? You’re blocking my light.”

Bruce retracted his shadows. They swirled around, agitated now.

“What?” The man asked, looking at him, daring to look innocent.

 _You’re sick_.

The man sighed. “You’re a demon, honey. You’re like, the biggest baddie ever. I’m just an eentsy, weentsy, wittle human!” He said in a mock sweet voice, followed by a large, sadistic smile. “I’m perfectly sane, I promise.”

 _You kill people_.

“And you don’t?” The man asked, looking genuinely confused.

_No, I don’t! I feed off of fear, but I don’t kill my victims!_

“Because lifelong trauma is not bad,” the man said with a laugh. Bruce really hates his laugh. “Sweetie, I’m putting them out of their misery! I mean, take Judy for example. She goes to school, she works as a waitress at some dirty diner, she does homework, and then she sleeps! Then the next day, it’s the same again. How _boring_. I’m letting her go out with a bang!” He laughed. “It’ll be great fun! Want to help?”

Bruce recoiled, disgusted.

“Okay, you can just watch then,” the man said. “But that makes you just as guilty, so you might as well participate.”

 _I will not sink to your level_ , Bruce said with as much vehemence as possible.

“Alright, then. Suit yourself.” The man finished washing and drying his knives.

Bruce decided to go. He was not about to stick around and see what becomes of the girl. He could find another victim rather easily.

* * *

**I'm sorry, I'm sorry this is incomplete. And it will probably** **_stay_ ****incomplete. I really like the idea of the prequel. In fact, the prequel is actually what made me write the demon AU. It was originally going to be a Batjokes story, one story. But then, I thought about what could happen after, and I decided to start there and write this as a prequel, but I never got to it. It's a pity, I really like this Joker. He seems fun. I remember how this was supposed to end, but I shan't spoil it, as there is still an eentsy, weentsy, wittle chance I may finish. But a fair warning, this is a dark, dark, DARK story. Much darker than Sugar and Spice, and Fall from Grace. It's like... really sadistic and well, Joker-esque. It involve a lot of dark themes, such as stalking, torture, murder, literally driving people insane, but it's nothing Joker in the comics doesn't do on a regular basis. But if I were to write it, it would just be one of my much darker fics, so idk if I want to go there just yet.**

**~1,238 words**


	11. Four Times Two

**General**

**In which the Batboys attend Hogwarts, school of magic. They are all in different houses, by in the summer, in the same house. Then one morning, there's a special delivery from an alternate dimension.** **_Four_ ****special deliveries.**

* * *

 Jason is in the fifth year, in Gryffindor house.

He also had a habit of sneaking into the kitchens after curfew for food. Though he rarely got caught, he did get in trouble a couple of times, but he didn’t care.

A couple times each week, he would go through the tunnels that Fred and George found, and he would bring back desserts of all kinds. He knew most of the house elves down there by name, and the house elves also knew Jason’s favorite midnight snacks.

Dick, a seventh year Hufflepuff, believed it was hilarious, often telling Jason to sneak something for him as well. Tim, a third year Ravenclaw, disapproved quite strongly, but he often disapproved of Jason’s antics. And the youngest of the brothers, Damian, a second year Slytherin, also disapproved strongly, but he likes to pretend he doesn’t know any of his brothers, so they don’t talk much at school.

But the whole school knows about the four brothers. Their story is quite famous, of course, not as famous as the story of Harry Potter (sixth year Gryffindor), but no one is as famous as him.

Their father, Bruce Wayne, a prestigious pureblood wizard, never went to any school for magic. His parents had died when he was young, and he was raised by his family’s butler. Young Bruce Wayne taught himself magic, and no one really knows how, but he is a rather powerful wizard with a lot of power, but chooses to remain neutral. He rarely did anything that the public knew about.

Then one day, he adopted a son. A young half-blood child, whose parents had been killed in a raid. Many people were shocked when the child was sorted into Hufflepuff. A child raised by someone who was practically a myth and is rumored to be a horrible father, ended up so happy and amazing? Dick Grayson’s story was short of a miracle.

When Dick was in his first year, Bruce Wayne adopted another son. This child was someone Bruce had found on one of his travels, from France, actually. The child (no one ever found out who his parents were) would not speak for the longest time, but when he finally opened up to Bruce, it was time for him to go to Hogwarts as well. And despite all the anger in his heart, the Sorting Hat deemed him worthy of Gryffindor. Jason Todd’s did not cause too much of a commotion because Harry Potter had made one hell of an entrance for his second year and had nearly been expelled.

Besides showing up at Platform 9 ¾ at the beginning and end of terms, no one saw anything of Bruce Wayne for the next two years. Then, one September, reports of the mysterious Wayne family showing up at the train station with not two, but _three_ boys. This boy looked like the others, dark hair, blue eyes, and he seemed to hold a constant grudge against the Gryffindor. There were several speculations on the train that the new boy would be sorted into Slytherin. But Tim Drake went to Ravenclaw.

Then, the summer after the Harry Potter’s fourth year at Hogwarts, the chaotic Triwizard Tournament, and the return of You-Know-Who, Bruce suddenly had a real son. No one knew about it until the start of fifth year. The angrier-than-Jason pureblood child was immediately labeled as a threat the moment he was placed in Slytherin.

His brothers were oddly protective of him, standing up for him against their own houses, other houses, and even Damian’s own house. But after Howlers were sent to all three of them by Damian himself, they only did it behind his back, thinking Damian wouldn’t know. Damian knew, but he let it slide.

“Damn it, Jason,” Tim said as he, Dick, and Jason walked towards the Great Hall for breakfast. “What is with your need to eat at night? Do you not eat at dinner? Maybe you have a dysfunctional stomach.”

“I do,” Jason complained. “But I don’t know, I just want to eat again at night.”

Dick had his shoulder slung of Jason’s shoulder, touching the top of his head to Jason’s. “You haven’t figured it out yet, Timbo?” Dick teased. “What kind of Ravenclaw are you? Jay isn’t hungry. He likes sneaking out. What did you expect? He’s in the same house as the Chosen One. He does it for the _thrill_.”

Tim snorted. “Honestly, Dick, you should find a way to stop this. Something could happen, and no one would know until the next morning. Or maybe not even until dinner time the next day. You’re Head Boy, you should do something.”

Dick laughed loudly, throwing his head up. A couple of first years walking past turned to look at him. “You really think Jay would listen to anything I say?”

Tim shrugged, his books slipping from his arms a bit. He readjusted the thick volumes in his arms. Just then, a flash of green came barreling into him. Tim tumbled to the ground, his books sprawling everywhere.

“Watch it, Drake!” the figure yelled angrily at him.

Tim frowned. “You’re the one who ran into _me,_ brat.”

“You’ll damage my broom, and maybe then, Father will disown you,” Damian muttered, standing up and brushing his Quidditch robes. He eyed his other brothers as Tim started collecting his books again. “Grayson, Todd.”

“Morning, kiddo!” Dick said brightly, reaching out to ruffle Damian’s hair. The shorter boy slapped his hand away. Dick made a hurt sound.

“Short-stack,” Jason said with a nod. Damian glared at him, but Jason didn’t acknowledge it.

“Where are you headed so early? You haven’t even been to breakfast yet,” Dick said.

“Practice. We have a game tomorrow and we need to get in as much time as possible.” Damian glared at Tim. “Even though we can beat their feathered asses no problem.”

“Language,” Jason said tiredly.

Damian turned his glare to the Gryffindor. “I learned from you, so shut up, Todd.”

“Hey, hey, okay,” Dick said, even the peace keeper. “See you later then, Little D!” Dick guided Jason and Tim away from the Slytherin before someone threw a punch.

The Great Hall was filled with the pleasant sound of chatter and the aromatic smells of breakfast. The three brothers separated and went to their tables, sitting down with their friends.

Tim opened one of his books, reading while sipping on a cup of coffee. Normally, the school did not serve coffee, but after a scary mental breakdown from the third year Ravenclaw, Tim had a never-ending supply of black coffee, despite all the warnings from his friends and brothers about growth stunting.

It was almost like another start of the day. Until a loud crack echoed through the hall, shaking the walls and tables. The glass in the windows shattered, glasses cracked, drinks spilled on tables, and screams filled the air.

The entire Slytherin table split in the middle as four figures fell from the sky and landed on the table.

Once the screaming died down, many had their wands drawn and were pointing at the figures. Teachers ran down from their table and forced the crowd of students back.

One of the figures stirred. It was a young boy, dressed in bright colors. He had a mask over his eyes and a hood pulled over his head. He sat up slowly, gritting his teeth, and he surveyed the room.

“Damn it, Jason, where the hell are we now?” He muttered to himself. He stood up and looked at the crowd of students and the array of wands pulled.

He couldn’t help but snort. “What are a bunch of sticks supposed to do to me?” A ripple of confusion ran through the crowd. Professor Dumbledore made his way to the front.

“May I ask, who are you and your… companions?” The wizened man asked politely, glancing at the other three unconscious figures.

“Doesn’t matter,” the short boy snapped. “Where are we?”

Dumbledore just smiled and did not answer. “I think it is best if you follow me, Mister…?”

The boy narrowed his eyes at the man, calculating. “Robin.”

“Robin,” Dumbledore smiled. “Yes, please come with me.”

“I’m not leaving them,” Robin snapped immediately. It was then that the man in the black leotard stirred, sitting up and glancing around. He looked up at Robin, who was glaring at Dumbledore.

Without looking, Robin seemed to know who had stirred. “Nightwing,” he said, his eyes never leaving Dumbledore. “I don’t think we’ll find a transporter here.”

Nightwing made a face as he brushed his fingers through his hair, grimacing at the remnants of porridge.

“What do you mean?” Nightwing asked, standing up next to Robin. He surveyed the room as well. A moment passed and then his eyes widened. “Holy shit!” he said with a gasp. “Are we at Hogwarts? Please tell me we’re at Hogwarts!”

Dumbledore’s attention turned to Nightwing. “And you are?”

Dick didn’t answer, laughing and smiling widely as he looked at the Great Hall. “Oh my gosh, Hogwarts! Which… which means we go to Hogwarts! Robin, we go to Hogwarts! This is my childhood dream come true!”

Robin did not seem to understand. “Nightwing, I do not understand what Hogwarts is. It sounds like a disease. Is this something Batman would have a cure for?”

The students and the rest of the teachers seemed to be just as confused.

“Where am I?” Nightwing asked, looking carefully at the students. His eyes stopped on a trio in the back of the crowd. Tim, with his coffee in his hands, Dick, with his arms around his brothers, and Jason with his arms crossed, wand in his hand. “Holy crap, I look so good in robes. I always thought yellow was an unflattering color on me and those drab, shapeless clothes must not do good things for my curves, but you, mister, look really good. A bit young, though.”

Everyone turned to stare at the trio. Tim and Jason stiffened under the attention.

The group parted as Nightwing strode forward towards the three of them. Tim eyed him warily and Jason had his wand pointed at him subtly. But Nightwing just stroked Dick’s chest, admiring the Hufflepuff crest and the fabric.

Then he scrutinized Dick’s face. “Hm,” Nightwing said. Then he smiled widely. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said cheerfully. “You look great, but still no one looks better than I do.”

Robin, having given up entirely on Nightwing, lost it. “Because he is you, you idiot! You don’t have to play this game every time we are thrown into another universe, Grayson!” Robin yanked off his mask. Everyone gasped.

“Yes, I know! I looked like Damian Wayne or whatever his name is!” Damian said. “Don’t you dare tell me again!” He jabbed his finger at the nearest student, who shrank back in fear. He stomped towards Nightwing and his alternate reality brothers.

Nightwing was pouting. “You always ruin my fun, Robin,” he said, also removing his own mask. He turned back to Dick. “Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson from this universe!”

Dick very hesitantly shook the hand of Nightwing, or the other Dick Grayson. He then wiped his hand on his robes to remove the drying porridge.

Nightwing Dick turned his attention to Jason.

“Aw! Look, Lil’ D! It’s baby Jay!” Dick cooed. “You don’t remember when he was this young because you weren’t there yet, and I’m pretty sure our Jay never lived up to this age,” Dick said cheerfully. He didn’t notice as everyone else looked alarmed by his words.

A loud groan drew everyone’s attention back to the other two that fell from the sky.

“Nightwing?” A voice called.

“Jay!” Nightwing Dick pushed through the students, and dropped to his knees into a few biscuits. “You okay?”

“Think I have a concussion,” Jason groaned form within his helmet. Dick quickly pulled it off his head. He cracked on eye open. “It’s too bright in here. Where are we?”

“Hogwarts, Jay, Hogwarts,” Dick said excitedly.

Jason sat up, his eyes still closed. “You say that like I should know this place.”

“Of course you should!” Dick said, sounding offended. “The world of Harry Potter? You know, the school of magic?”

Jason finally opened his eyes and looked around. “Yeah, no, not ringing a bell. Why are there so many people dressed in curtains?”

“Curtains?” Dick asked, genuinely confused. “Robes?”

“Yes, those absolute disgraces to fashion.”

“They are the uniform of the school, and the common wear of the rest of the Wizarding World, Jason.” This time, it was Tim who spoke. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, and removed his mask as well. “They would probably think that your leather jacket is a disgrace as well. Muggle clothes.”

Dick looked ecstatic. “Finally! Someone who read the books!”

Tim stood, not responding to Dick’s enthusiasm. “I didn’t read past the third book. It was too predictable. It was obvious what would happen at the end.” He started walking away from Dick and Jason, heading over to where Robin Damian was glaring at them. As he walked past the other Tim, he took the cup of coffee from his hands without even looking at the other boy. “Thanks.”

From one of the pockets in his utility belt, Tim pulled out a small device. He tapped on it a couple times.

Then he spoke. “He’s in Italy.”

Dumbledore cut it. “Sorry, but who’s in Italy? And if I’m not mistaken, you come from an alternate world? As you seem to be different versions of four of our students.”

“Batman.”

“Who?”

“Bruce Wayne?” Tim deadpanned, as if it were obvious. “We need to find him. And probably kidnap him again,” Tim muttered the last part under his breath. “Hopefully not. Last time, it got rather bloody.” He turned to everyone else. “Well, sorry for dropping in on your breakfast, we really need to start heading out.” Tim started towards the door. On the way, he stopped in front of Professor Snape. “I really, really respect you, man,” he said with the most serious face.

Nightwing Dick protested. “But Timbo! Hogwarts!”

Tim whirled around, eyes flashing dangerously. “Dick. Don’t test me. I’m surviving on three hours of sleep right now, and I was pulled out of a very important case to help you and Jason with something and I ended up _here!_ ”

He resumed his movement towards the door. Dick frowned for a moment before pulling Jason up, and they started towards the door as well. Damian started following behind them, and he heard someone snicker under their breath. Something was whispered about his bright colors. In a moment, he had his katana whipped out, the boy was pressed against the wall, a sword under his neck. Wands were pointed at Damian again.

“Wait! Wait!” Dick quickly tried interfering but someone shot a spell, and it hit Damian square in the back. The boy crumpled to the ground, his sword falling beside him.

* * *

**WAIT, WHAT HAPPENED? Everything just escalated so quickly! Now I want to know what happened, but I don't remember! Now, I kind of wish I did finish this, but I won't finish it because it won't be the original story, and I want the original story. But seriously though, I was oddly amused through this entire thing. And the mission? I want to know what the mission was! I also feel like this could have been a series, since they were traveling through dimensions? I seem to have a thing for dimension hopping. (Also, it's 8-18-18 today :D I don't know, I have a thing for those special dates, haha)**

**~2,503 words**


	12. Not Of The Circus Type

**Bruce/Joker (kinda? not as a relationship tho)**

**In which there's another clown in town, and both Bruce and Joker want to find out who, or what, it is. Bruce, because the clown has been kidnapping children. Joker, because Gotham City is his, and only his.**

* * *

 

“This is the fourth disappearance in the past six week,” Bruce growled. “And we _still_ haven’t found who’s been taking these kids.”

“We’ll find them,” Tim assured.

“Assuming they’re not dead yet,” Bruce said, his mood souring. “None of it adds up is the problem. None of the children have any connections to each other. Their families are upstanding citizens. It just- It just all seems _random_.”

“Maybe it is.”

Bruce snorted. “Not in this city, it isn’t.”

“So some random dude goes and kidnaps four children in random intervals in a period of six weeks? I mean, it could just be a coincidence. Maybe it’s _four_ different people who’ve taken four different kids for their own reasons,” Tim suggested.

“No, it’s not,” Bruce said. “Again, this city doesn’t have coincidences.”

“Hey, you wanted me to bring up every probable possibility,” Tim said, raising his hands. “Trust me, I don’t think it’s random either.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “I know. Keep going.”

Tim took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “Okay, so say it’s the same person. The first kid was six years old? Disappeared exactly six weeks ago. And there was no trace of him, yes?”

“None. He had gone to the bathroom at school, leaving the classroom only for a moment. The teacher heard a scream, went out to check, but didn’t see him,” Bruce finished. “No one saw anything or noticed anything amiss prior to the incident.”

“Right. But a couple days before the disappearance of Debbie Banks, someone found the first kid’s shoe. Half buried in the sand at the playground. Two days after that, Debbie Banks disappears from in front of her yard down the street from that park.”

“We thought it was a pattern, yes,” Bruce said. They’d been over this several times. “But when a lock of Debbie Banks’ hair was found snagged in a tree on the other side of the city, there was no disappearance for another week and a half. Michelle Wong was playing hide and seek with her older brother and his friends. They also heard a scream, but found nothing. There were no signs of struggle, no clues whatsoever as to where she went. It was like she just… disappeared into thin air. And none of her… belongings have appeared yet. And yesterday the Sebastian Garcia disappeared from his mother’s car.” Bruce let out a long breath. “The doors were locked. And the kid disappeared without a trace and no signs of break in either. Even if this person tempted the kid out of the car and locked the door again, no one saw anything.”

“Sounds like some sick magic trick,” Tim said.

“A sick magic trick,” Bruce agreed. Then, a loud ringing from the computer, signaling someone calling them.

Bruce reached over and pressed the answer button. Jim Gordon’s unhappy face popped onto the screen.

“Batman,” Gordon said. “Red Robin.”

“What is it, Gordon?” Bruce asked.

“We may have gotten a lead,” Gordon finally said.

“Okay.”

“It’s… not much of one though. Someone stuck a note on my desk a couple hours ago. Anonymous. It just said they’d talk to you. We ran it for prints and found nothing,” Gordon said.

“A note?” Tim asked.

Gordon sighed and held up a small baggie that held a Post-it note inside. On it, scrawled quickly in black Sharpie were, _SG. I saw something. Send the Bat._

“SG,” Tim mused. “Like Sebastian Garcia.”

“That’s as far as we got,” Gordon grunted. “It just says ‘Send the Bat’. No date, no time, nothing.”

But Bruce did not need any of them. “I’ve got it,” he said, pushing himself out of the chair.

Gordon opened his mouth to ask, but Bruce hit the end call button. The screens blinked into darkness. Bruce grabbed his cape, attaching it to the rest of his armor.

“I’ll come with you,” Tim said, jumping to his feet.

“No,” Bruce said. “Best if you didn’t. We want them to talk, and he’ll never talk in front of you.”

Tim frowned. “Why not?”

“Just stay here,” Bruce said. “I’ll keep in touch.”

He jumped on a motorbike and roared off out of the cave.

Tim sighed heavily. He slumped down into the chair Bruce had vacated and sipped his lukewarm coffee.

~

Bruce walked into the abandoned warehouse with its collapsing ceiling, broken windows and graffiti walls.

The constant _drip, drip, drip_ of water, the scurrying of rats, and Bruce’s own breathing were the only sounds he could hear.

Then, maniacal laughter rang out around the warehouse. Bruce could not pin where it was coming from, instead, seemingly coming from all around him. The laughter started overlapping until it sounded like there were an entire audience cackling.

Finally, the laughter died down, until it was just one voice.

“Little Sebastian Garcia. Playing with his toys in mommy’s car. One moment he’s there. The next, _poof_ , magic,” the voice said.

“I’m not here for games.”

“Of course you’re not, Bats.” More laughter. “When are you ever?”

“Joker.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to leave.”

A tall, dark figure slipped out of the darkness. “But oh no no, you can’t just yet,” Joker said. “You don’t have the information you came for!”

“You didn’t see anything.”

“But I did,” Joker said. “See, I was out and about, minding my own business, as usual,” Joker grinned, talking delicate steps forward. “And from my little hiding place in a dark, scary alleyway, I could see little Sebastian Garcia.”

“Get to the point.”

Joker ignored him. “Playing with his planes, _zoom_!” He mimicked a toy place flying through the air. “But oh, that was not all. There was a red balloon, you see. It floated its way down the street,” Joker imitated the balloon, his green eyes tracking it. “And it stopped, in front of the car, where little Sebastian was playing. He saw the balloon, and forgot his toys.

“Then, little Sebastian unlocked the car door, and came out of the car, still clutching his little toy plane. He reached for the balloon string, and the minute he touched the balloon string, _poof_!”

Joker said nothing more, just smiling and looking at Bruce.

Bruce glared at him. “He touched a balloon and disappeared,” Bruce summed up dryly. He grabbed Joker’s wrist and squeezed. “I’m not finding this funny.”

Joker winced slightly through his smile. “But I’m not done, Bats. Little Sebastian didn’t disappear, oh no. _He_ appeared.”

“Who’s he?” Bruce demanded.

Joker shrugged. “Don’t know. Never seen him before.” His lip then curled up in a sneer. “A circus clown.”

Bruce twisted his arm behind his back. “I’m going to enjoy breaking your face today.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Joker yelped. “There was a clown, and he said something to the boy, and they just disappeared!”

“What did he say to the boy?” Bruce asked.

Joker let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know! I couldn’t hear them. But that’s what I saw, and I’m no more happy about than you are. It makes no fucking sense, but I didn’t hallucinate it, and I would really appreciate if you didn’t break my face today since I have a date with Harley tomorrow.”

Bruce let go and pushed Joker away in disgust. “This is all just one big joke to you isn’t it?” Bruce spat.

Joker giggled. “I wish. But unfortunately, it’s a lot more than that. There’s another clown in town, and I’m not happy about that. And since _I_ have no more resources on this fake than you do, I thought we could maybe work together?” he finished hopefully.

Bruce glared at him. Joker was telling the truth then. There was some creepy clown going around and kidnapping kids. “I’m not going to work with you.”

“Oh, c’mon, Bats!” Joker complained. “We have a common enemy! You want him gone, I want him gone. We’re unstoppable as a team!”

“There’s not ‘we’,” Bruce growled.

“But there’s a team?” Joker asked, batting his eye up at Bruce.

 

**< MORE CRUCIAL STORY POINTS I NEVER WROTE>**

 

“You killed me,” an undead, bloody, zombie boy in a torn and dirtied Robin outfit hissed at Bruce. He took slow, uneven steps forward. He raised a broken finger towards Bruce. “You… You murderer!”

Bruce took a step back. “Jason, I-”

The undead Robin lunged at Bruce, hands outstretched for Bruce’s throat. Bruce rolled out of the way and he went crashing into a stone pillar. He pulled himself to his feet and turned on Bruce again.

The zombie Robin jerked and morphed. He changed into a redhead girl, her neck hanging broken. Blood leaked from her eyes, her mouth, her nose, and her ears. She sat in a wheelchair, her fingers working mechanically to bring the chair forward.

“It’s your fault I’m like this,” she croaked. “You took away my future, my dreams. So I’ll take away yours.”

“Barbara, no,” Bruce said. He was sounding less and less sure of himself. He managed to scramble to his feet as Barbara screamed and tried to run him over with her wheelchair. When Bruce turned around again, Barbara was gone, and standing in her place.

 _No, god, please no_.

It was Joker, examining his hands and arms. “Who would have thought.” The words flowed from Joker’s mouth easily. He grinned at Bruce. “Your greatest failure is _him_? Why, that’s just brilliant, isn’t it? A fellow clown, wreaking havoc upon the world. Hm.” It almost sounded like a sound of approval. “Too bad he’s going to have to kill you.”

Joker pulled a gun from his pocket, cocking it and pointing it at Bruce. “Say, night-night, Batsy!”

Then, a giant fucking mallet came crashing into the side of Joker’s face, sending him flying into the wall, screeching. The bullet ricocheted off the ground, missing Bruce.

“You know, Penny – can I call you that? – it’s kind of rude to wear someone else’s body,” Joker, the real Joker, said. “But if you’d _asked_ , maybe I would have let you. Ya know, just proper etiquette.”

* * *

**Yes, yes, I know. How can I stand having so many clowns in a fic when I hate clowns so much, especially the killer kind? I don't know. It may be why I never finished this piece. I did name the document 'The fic with too many fucking clowns'. Anyway, it was a very interesting concept to explore, however. Joker, always wanting to burn Gotham to the ground to spite the Bat, now protecting the city as his home. And also, Pennywise having no idea why Joker doesn't fear anything. 83% sure it won't be finished.**

**~1,663**


	13. Comatose Nights

**Bruce/Clark**

**In which Bruce got in an accident and ended up in a coma. Clark stays by his side each night.**

* * *

 It happened while Clark was in Smallville. He was eating dinner with his mother. He had been reassured over and over again by Bruce that it would be alright. That nothing would happen while he was away, and if anything did, Clark will be notified first.

But Bruce didn’t notify Clark of anything.

And Clark found out the next morning at work.

It was on the front page of the Daily Planet. Written in bold, black, threatening letters: _ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT AT GOTHAM’S ANNUAL CHARITY DINNER_

Clark’s heart nearly stopped beating. His eyes scanned down the article as fast as he could, but even for him, it wasn’t fast enough. Someone had set a bomb in the hotel where the charity dinner was taking place. Clark tried his best not to panic. Bruce had said he was attending a charity dinner that night. A mere coincidence, possibly? After all, Bruce hadn’t called Clark at all.

He kept reading. He scanned past the part about the suspects and the basic rundown of the event. Then he stumbled upon dreaded words.

_-seventeen mildly injured. There were no fatalities, but Bruce Wayne, billionaire and notorious playboy, seemed to be the only one who came out with major injuries. Wayne had gone back into the collapsing building several times to rescue other attendees. However, Wayne did not come back out. He was found unconscious and crushed under the building. Our sources tell us that he is currently in a comatose state and no further information about his state of health has been revealed._

Immediately, Clark dropped the paper on his desk, grabbed his bag and started to leave. However, Perry walked in at that moment.

“Whoa, whoa, Kent! Where are you going? You’ve been here a total of ten minutes!”

Clark just desperately wanted to get out of there. “I’m sorry, Perry. I’m really not feeling that well right now.”

“You look fine to me.”

“And I think I left the burner on in my apartment,” Clark yelled behind him as he ran out of the office, leaving Perry shaking his head behind him.

When Clark touched down behind Martha Wayne Memorial Hospital, all he could restrain himself from pulling the door of its hinges as he jerked it open.

He ran down the halls towards the front desk, while several doctors and passing nurses gave him alarmed looks.

Thankfully, the waiting room was fairly empty.

“Bruce Wayne, please,” Clark said.

The lady smiled at him sweetly. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not allowing him any visitors at this moment.”

“Why not?” Clark demanded. “Visiting hours are open!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but after last night’s events, no one but family is allowed.”

Cursing silently, Clark drummed his fingers on the desk. “He doesn’t even have family! His friends are his family!”

The lady’s smile became a bit strained. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Clark just turned and slouched away. As he walked through the halls again, he peeked into all the windows, wanting to see if any of them was occupied by a familiar face. Then it hit him.

He was at the Martha Wayne Memorial Hospital, in dedication to Bruce’s mother. So Bruce wouldn’t be on the ground floor, reserved for regular patients.

Slipping into the elevator, Clark headed to the third floor. The third floor was nearly silent. Clark passed no doctors or nurses on the way up. He peeked around the corner and down the hall. At the end of the hall, there were two burly men dressed in black, standing in front of a closed room.

Clark could hear the beeping of machinery inside the room. He could also hear the faintest of heartbeats. But he knew that heartbeat anywhere.

Cursing to himself again, Clark tried to find a way to divert the two men for a moment. Just at that moment, the elevator dinged at the end of his hall. A nurse, pushing a small cart came in, humming quietly to herself.

Had Clark been a girl, he probably would’ve pulled the “attack-the-poor-nurse-and-pretend-to-be-her” act. Unfortunately, the guards probably wouldn’t fall for a tall man dressed in pink scrubs that were too small for him.

* * *

**The document was named 'Comatose Nights', so I'm assuming that's what it was about? It probably would've been a hurt/comfort style fic, which explains why I got bored of it. Sorry, this one isn't happening at all. 'S cute though.**

**~692 words**


	14. Oh, How The Tables Have Turned

**Bruce/Joker**

**In which Bruce Wayne and the Joker somehow switched bodies. And until they figure out how to get back, they must act like each other, and work together without alerting anyone else. Thing is, Joker doesn't know Bruce is the Bat, Bruce cannot play the part of Gotham's Prince of Crime, nor can Joker be the city's golden boy.**

* * *

 CHAPTER 1

Bruce opened his eyes to the metallic smell of blood, a dislocated shoulder, a sprained wrist, and a hyena licking his face.

He sits up quickly, and a bolt of pain shot up his back, making Bruce cry out, his eyes squeezing shut. He gritted his teeth together, and touched his lower back. The skin there was sensitive and it hurt to touch. Bruce slowly opened his eyes and they adjusted to the dark room.

The small room was crowded and dirty. It definitely was not the bedroom he had fallen asleep in last night. There were newspaper clippings taped to the walls, two guns and several bullets lying on the desk, which was covered in more papers, blueprints, and some manila folders. The floor was strewn with clothes, none of them belonging to him.

A pack of cigarettes lay open, with only one smoke left, on the small table on the side.

A vanity was shoved into the other corner of the room, and a mess of makeup was on the little table.

The room had no window, and it only had a tiny lamp on the desk. Bruce rolled his neck in a circle, groaning softly at the discomfort. He lifted his arm to touch his neck, but his shoulder protested greatly, and Bruce knew it was dislocated. The wrist was also swollen and pulsing.

But Bruce was less occupied by the pain. No, he was looking down at his hand – pale, milky white, with several scars and ragged bloody nails. The wrist disappeared into a purple coat sleeve.

Bruce looked at his other hand. It matched the first, without the sprained wrist. He pushed the covers off of himself, gaping down at the rest of “his” body. Purple, purple, purple, with a dash of orange and splashes of green.

A soft sound came from beside him, and Bruce turned, nearly falling out of the bed.

A girl lay beside him, her makeup a mess. She had one arm on her bare stomach, where her red shirt rode up during the night. Her mostly blonde with bubble gum pink and cotton candy blue tips hair was tied back in crooked pigtails. Her other arm cuddled a hyena, which blinked at Bruce with half-lidded eyes.

Bruce slowly backed away. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, not out of fear, but confusion and horror. He stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the light. Bruce nearly gagged. There were blood splatters on the walls and in the shower. Bloody handprints showed where the victim had tried to push themselves up, and the long trail of blood showed where the body had been dragged out from.

With shaking hands and heaving breaths, Bruce dared to face the sink. He took a few deep breaths and slowly opened his eyes.

Bruce looked in the cracked mirror and sees matted green hair, dried blood, smeared red lipstick and eyeliner, and a murderer's wide, horrified green eyes.

Then, Harley came walking in, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Mistah J?”

~

Joker opened his eyes to silk sheets, warm sunshine, pleasantly sore muscles, and birds chirping outside the window.

He buried his face deeper into the soft pillow, hoping to shut out the damn birds. He had a bad night. He just wanted some sleep.

But the stupid fucking birds just kept on singing their tuneless song. Growling, Joker reached under the pillow for the gun he always kept there, loaded and ready for use.

But he felt nothing.

Patting around more urgently, he wondered if it could have fallen off the bed. Joker finally gave up and sat up. Something felt wrong. He spun onto his back, looking around the room he was in.

The bed was huge, way bigger than the cramped queen size bed that was in the apartment he was currently staying at. The balcony door was open slightly, a gentle breeze and yellow sunlight streaming into the huge room.

The doors to a dark bathroom and the walk in closet were slightly ajar. Joker’s eyes narrowed. How the hell had he gotten here overnight? Did he not get back? That cannot be. Joker remembers quite clearly that he collapsed into the bed, still dressed in his purple suit.

Joker pushed himself out of the bed, walking quickly over to the balcony and pulled the curtains apart. He squinted against the rising sun. Joker had no fucking idea where he was, but he could see Gotham rising over the gardens under the balcony.

“What the fuck…?” Joker muttered. He turned back to the room, closing the door behind him and shutting out the damn birds. It was sparsely decorated, but very clean. Joker looked down at himself. He had on a pajama pants, but no shirt, and his chest was tanned and golden. Scars of all kinds littered his torso. He was also a lot bigger in size than he was used to. Gone were the skinny, bony limbs, replaced by thick and strong arms. His hands were huge as well, but well-manicured and very pretty.

Hm, whoever this was, they did not have a bad nail biting habit like Joker did.

Joker walked to the bathroom, stumbling a bit. He was not used to having so much weight. He peeked into walk-in closet. It was full of suits of all kinds. They were all _very_ expensive. Looks like whoever this was, they were probably a millionaire or something.

He flicked the bathroom light on.

Oh, no, not a millionaire. No, it was _the billionaire._ He made a face of disgust.

Joker looked in the mirror and saw blue eyes, black hair, a jaw with a shadow of stubble, and a billionaire's pearly white teeth sneering back at him.

Then, there was a knock at the bedroom door, and a voice called, “Master Bruce?” The door opened, and Joker peered out of the bathroom. His eyes landed on a thin, older man standing by the door.

“Er… yes,” Joker said. A voice much deeper than he was used to came out of his mouth.

The old man, the _butler_ , raised an eyebrow. “Did you catch a cold last night?” He asked dryly. “I did tell you it was getting too cold, and you should have worn your warmer suit. Serves you right, though. I just came to remind you that you have a board meeting in two hours.”

“Right,” Joker said, coughing to clear his throat and tried to pitch his voice a little lower. He stared at the butler, expecting him to leave.

The butler gave Joker a long, puzzled look before exiting the room. Joker ducked back into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. He frowned, and Bruce Wayne’s reflection frowned back.

Why did he end up in Bruce Wayne’s body of all people? And what the hell even caused this to happen anyway? Joker did not remember running into any strange people or doing anything out of the usual recently. He certainly had not run into the billionaire playboy lately.

As Joker thought about what could have happened, drumming his fingers again the marble sink, a bad habit of his, there was another knock.

Joker hated people interrupting him, and he growled. He poked his head out of the room again, ready to tell the butler off, but then, the tapping came again.

Joker spun around. The knocking came from the balcony. Something was tapping on the glass. Joker cautiously approached the drawn curtains, wishing he had a gun on him.

With a swish, he pulled the curtain back, and on the balcony, on the other side of the glass, Joker saw himself standing there, arms crossed and glaring back at him.

~~~

CHAPTER 2

“Well, good morning, beautiful,” Joker smirked, pulling the balcony door open. His body walked in, looking around, then looking Joker up and down.

“Joker…” the man in his body said. “I’d presume.”

“Right you are, sweetheart,” Joker purred. “But what I really want to know is, what the hell you did to me, darling? I do, ah, appreciate the view, but I would much rather have my own body back.”

Bruce opened his mouth to snap at Joker, but then he remembered, _Bruce Wayne_ had no reason to have a grudge against Joker. He was not supposed to know how dangerous the Joker really was. He was supposed to just look pretty and smile and think nothing more than girls and partying.

So instead, Bruce smiled. “I’m flattered,” he said. “But I actually have no idea either. I came here hoping you would have some idea.”

Joker blinked at him. Then he started laughing. “Really? Did you now? And you made it all the way from the, ah, Narrows to your manor _without_ being caught by the police? I’m impressed.” He laughed.

Bruce beamed, but he rolled his eyes internally.

There was a knock on the door again. “Master Bruce? Are you talking to someone in there?”

Bruce froze, looking at Joker, seeing how he would respond.

“Oh, no,” Joker said cheerily, pitching his voice lower. He imitated Bruce perfectly. “I’m just… practicing what to say later.”

There was a short pause. “Are you feeling alright this morning?”

“Oh, yes,” Joker said. “Just peachy, uh…”

“Alfred,” Bruce whispered.

“Alfred! Thank you!”

The doorknob started turning. Bruce dived into the closet and managed to close the door before Alfred walked in. He watched through a tiny slit as Alfred looked Joker up and down, frowning.

“You’re not even dressed,” Alfred said dryly. “You do realize your meeting is in… only an hour, right? And you said you would finish your report for last night _before_ said meeting?”

“Right, I’ll get right on it!” Joker said quickly. Bruce groaned. He sounded way too excited to fool Alfred.

As he suspected, Alfred’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure you’re feeling – what’s that word you used? - _peachy_?”

Joker nodded. “Of course!”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed. Then, he started towards the closet, where Bruce was currently hiding. Bruce cursed silently. He had to find somewhere to hide, but as big as his walk-in closet was, it was not the best hiding spot.

All Bruce could do was press himself as far back as possible, hiding behind the suits and hoping Joker’s damn purple clothes blended in with all the darker colors. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath.

He heard Joker speaking, “Alfred! There’s no need to help me, heh. I can manage myself.”

The closet door opened. There was a long silence. Then, Alfred cleared his throat. Bruce’s eyes cracked open, and fuckity fuck fuck, Alfred was staring right at him.

Another beat of silence, then, both Joker in Bruce’s body and Bruce in Joker’s body, blurted out, “I can explain!”

~

Bruce spoke first. “Alfred, I know you’re not going to believe me, but you _really_ need to believe me. I’m- I’m not the Joker. And he’s not Bruce Wayne. We… switched bodies last night. Somehow. I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Alfred did not move.

“It’s crazy, I know, I thought I was dreaming when I woke up this morning and found Harley Quinn next to me, but I’m telling the truth right now, you have to believe me.”

Alfred blinked at him slowly. Then, he turned around to look at Joker in Bruce’s body.

Joker grinned widely. “Surprise! Was my, ah, charade that bad? I thought I did pretty well.”

Alfred look from him to Joker, then back again. “Well, I’ll go put on some tea and then we can talk.”

He strode out of the closet, and Bruce looked at Joker, then he pushed himself out of the suits, reminding himself to wash all of them later. He followed Alfred out of the closet, and Joker followed them out of the room. He also grabbed a bathrobe as he walked out, wrapping himself in the soft wool, snuggling in.

Bruce wanted to frown. That was _his_ favorite bathrobe, and Joker did not even ask! But at the same time… Joker seemed to clutch the soft material to him like he had never had the luxury of owning a bathrobe. Bruce did frown at this.

They settled in the kitchen, where Alfred started making tea.

“Where’s Tim?” Bruce asked, looking around, expecting him to walk in at any moment.

“He went to the meeting in your place,” Alfred said. “Looks like it was a good thing he did.” Alfred looked at Joker.

“And Damian?”

“At school. He’ll be staying with his friend this weekend. They have a special project they are working on.”

“Don’t you have, like, four kids?” Joker said, tossing an apple from one hand to another. “Where’re the others?”

* * *

  **This is something I may write one day. It is a very interesting concept, I think but it will be a bit hard and confusing to write. I do like it though. I usually don't write stories where Joker doesn't know who Batman is, so it will be something new for me. While I love the 'I don't care who Batman's other mask is', I also love 'I do know who Batman's other mask is, but I don't care'.**

**~2,122 words**


	15. Angelical

**Dick/Jason**

**In which Dick is an angel, the youngest of the leaders, and he is sent on a mission to bring back a rogue angel, a Fallen, a _demon_ named Jason.**

* * *

 

"Wally!" I huffed in annoyance. "Come on! We have to get to the meeting now!"

I heard my best friend grumble and shuffle around behind the door. Finally, the door opened and the shorter man walked out.

"Okay, okay," Wally said. "I'm here."

We had been called to a _very_ important meeting by the Angel Council. All angels who were available had to attend. So I had to wake up Wally, boss him around to get his lazy ass up and to the Council Hall.

Angels are sorted into three categories. The Head Angels – who are in charge, the Operative Angels – who carry out most of the missions and jobs on Earth, and the Novitiate Angels – who are either new or they did something wrong and needed to be put on probation. I recently got bumped up to a Head Angel, the youngest one in thirty Earth years. Wally is a senior Operative Angel. Technically, in angel years, he's older than me, but we all look like the way we do when we died.

We rushed into the Council Hall, breathless and tired. I landed softly in my spot at the end of the line of Head Angels, folding my large wings behind me.

The head angel, Bruce, cleared his throat and the murmuring stopped.

"You might be wondering why we called you here today,” he said, his voice ringing loud and clear.

I looked around and most of my fellow Head Angels were also wearing the same look. Only Bruce and his two assistants seemed to know what's going on.

The Operatives and Novitiates were all looking at one another, exchanging glances. I looked around the Hall. Head Angels stood on the balcony, facing the rest of the angels, and Operatives filled the ground. The Novitiates were standing in the very back, their wings held behind their backs with glowing, gold bands. Novitiates were not allowed to fly until they have learned all the rules, or they repented.

Being a Novitiate is very looked down upon. The only thing worse than that is being one of the Fallen, but we rarely have Fallen angels anymore – not since Bruce took charge. He ran a tight ship.

"We have had a bit of a problem,” Bruce said, his voice echoing in the large hall. I heard a few gasps. "Ten Earth years ago, there was an angel that disappeared."

I nodded gravely. I've heard many stories about that angel. Never knew him, but he had been a Head Angel, too. The ones who knew were forbidden to ever speak his name, and it was against the rules to speak about the angel.

"We suspected that he had left purposely." Bruce cleared his throat. "To elope with a _demon._ "

There were many shocked gasps and a few screams. It was a horrible crime to even interact with a demon, unless it was one’s mission to. Even then, angels who come back from any demon-related mission are purified in the Cleansing Chamber for three days and three nights. To think he _ran away_ with such a vile creature!

"Order!" Bruce called and the Hall was once again silenced. "We have sent many angels to go out and find this..." his lips curled in disgust. I knew what he meant. _Angel_ was too pure of a word for someone who had done something so terrible. " _Fallen._ However, of the twenty three we've sent out, only four came back." He shook his head and there was a long sigh that escaped his lips.

"The four have not been in their right minds since then," he said vaguely. "This Fallen angel has gotten out of control. We must find someone who can bring him in once and for all. Then, we shall Eradicate him."

My eyes widened. Never in the thirty Earth years I'd been an angel have I ever heard about _anyone_ being Eradicated. As far as I know, only one other angel had been Eradicated, ever, and he was completely wiped out – body, spirit, and soul.

I shook my head in pity. In my opinion, no one – no matter the crime – deserves to be Eradicated. But I could not argue against the Council.

"Unfortunately, this is not a job for an Operative." Bruce said. "We need a Head Angel."

My heart stopped. Well, it would have, if I had one. I looked around to the fourteen other Head Angels. Who would they send?

"We have already made the decision," Bruce said gravely.

They wouldn't send me. I had only been a Head Angel for a few Earth weeks! There was no way I was ready to take on a former Head Angel, a Fallen angel, or in harsher words, a _demon._

I barely heard the muttering of my fellow angels as everything played in slow motion. Bruce's head swiveled to the left, his eyes landing on me.

"Richard Grayson," his voice announced, and the Hall was dead silent as I stood up straighter. My knees were weak.

"Yes, sir?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Are you willing to take on this assignment?" Bruce asked, his eyes challenging me to say no. He wasn't giving me a choice. I could hear it in his voice. I was either to say yes, or I'd be stripped of my title and probably sentenced to who knows how many years as a Novitiate!

I took a deep breath. Maybe I could privately convince Bruce to change his mind later. "I- I will," I said, sounding much more confident than I felt.

Bruce nodded. "Good. I will see you after to discuss details of your mission. Dismissed!" he called.

As the Hall emptied, I caught Wally's eyes. His green eyes were wide, and they looked apologetic. I gave him my best "I'll be fine" look. He gave a small nod and followed the rest of the angels out of the Hall.

Finally, it was only me and Bruce left.

"Dick, I sense there was some hesitance in your part?" he asked, his voice low, but softer than before.

I nodded meekly. "I apologize, sir. I was just taken aback, that is all."

He nodded. "I want you to know the risks of this mission, so you know what you are facing by taking on this responsibility."

"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" I asked dryly.

Bruce gave me an emotionless look. "Angels don't quit, Dick." We had a short stare down before he continued telling me about my mission to certain doom. "The demon's name is Jason," he said. "We have not found the other nineteen angels. We assume they are held hostage somewhere and at the worst, dead. It is your job to bring them back, or at least find out where they are."

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms. "Why did you ask me to do it? I am not as experienced as you, or Diana, or Clark, or Bartholomew!" I blew out a long breath and calmed myself. "Is it because I'm the most replaceable?" I asked quietly.

Bruce shot me a glare. "Of course not!" he said, honestly sounding outraged that I was suggest so. "How could you suspect me of such treachery? I do not wish harm upon _any_ of my fellow angels. No, Dick, you are the youngest of us. You must have been smart to get up here at such an age. Therefore, you have certain charm the rest of us do not have. We are hoping you can use a different technique on the Fallen angel."

"Jason, you mean."

"Do _not_ speak of his name!" Bruce hissed, and I flinched.

"Okay, okay." I held up my hands in defense. "Anything else I need to know?" I asked, ready to get it over with.

Bruce nodded. "Yes, the four that did come back... we did a few tests on them. They- They had been tainted."

I cocked my head, not sure what Bruce meant. "With what?"

Bruce gulped visibly and shook his head in disgust. "Sexual pleasures," he whispered, as if it were a forbidden term. "We have tried the Cleansing Chamber, but it did nothing. I just hope you are strong enough to resist whatever dark magic the demon casts."

I nodded slowly, dread filling me up. "Wh-Where is this demon?" I asked.

Bruce looked me straight in the eyes. "He's on Earth at this moment. In Aokigahara, Japan's Suicide Forest, as humans call it."

I wrinkled my nose. "What is he doing there?"

Bruce shrugged. "Rarely do humans go there because of the stories surrounding the forest's name, about ghosts and angry spirits." He waved his hand dismissively. "It is very dense, and easy to hide away. You need to go there and find him. And soon."

"Why- Why can't we send more than one angel? It would be easier to overtake him, wouldn't it?"

Bruce shook his head. "He is one of the Fallen. He would recognize the scent of an angel, and the more angels there are, the stronger the scent. No, we must not risk sending more than one at a time."

I gulped. Alright, so no way of changing his mind. "So when am I leaving?" I asked.

"Now."

"Wha-"

Bruce tapped me on the forehead, hard, and my knees gave out under me, and my eyes slid shut.

~

I smelled dirt. It was faint, but it was there. I blinked and saw the entire world was sideways. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked again. Ah, I was lying down. Angels didn't sleep, so we had no need to lie down. I pushed myself up and stood. I brushed off my white clothes, and looked around.

I was standing amidst a bunch of trees. It was dense, like Bruce had said. It was also deathly silent, and I could hear my own breathing. Yes, I breathed, but I didn't have a heartbeat. Do not question me; I did not make the rules.

I took a step forward, feeling overwhelmed by all the new senses. It had been a long time since I'd been back on Earth. I suddenly frowned. I snapped my head to look at my back, and I realized that my usually heavy wings were _gone._

I panicked. Only the Fallen got their wings clipped, but then, they grew black ones. I didn't have wings at all! I calmed down when I realized that I wasn't supposed to be myself. I had to act human. So I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and reached for the memories of my human time.

I looked the exact same as I did now. Longer black hair, blue eyes, dimples. I focused on how I would act. Arms swinging by my side, a spring in my step, a large smile on my face.

I also wore skin-tight clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination. Apparently, it was what I wore when I was human.

"What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here." A voice broke through my thoughts.

My eyes snapped open, and I stumbled back, startled. Someone was standing in front of me, wearing a bright orange vest, and a cap on his head. He was glaring at me, a very disapproving frown on his face.

"This section is not open to the public,” he said, taking a step forward. Acting my part, I took a step back. He actually did intimidate me a little. "How did you get here?" he asked again.

"I- I-" I stumbled over my words. "Got lost."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Did you, now?" He looked me up and down, his eyes now thin slits. He gave a grunt and shook his head. "Stupid tourists,” he muttered. "C'mon, let's get you back, then."

I let out a silent breath of relief and started to follow him through the wooded area. I had no idea how he knew where to go, but I sure didn't, so I followed him.

We walked in silence for about ten minutes before I stopped.

"Hey, kid." The man turned again. "Keep up, will ya?"

I crossed my arms. "This- This is Japan,” I said.

"Yeah, so?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

"And you're supposed to work here?" I asked, my breath speeding up.

"No, I just wear a bright orange vest regularly,” he deadpanned.

"Well, most officials here who do know how to speak English won't have such a thick New York accent,” I said, taking a step back. "Who are you?"

The man blinked slowly a few times, before a grin stretched across his face. It wasn't a very nice grin.

"Oh, you _are_ a smart one, aren't you?" he asked.

I backed up more, my eyes widening. "Who- Who are you?" I demanded, trying to stand my ground.

"Oh, I thought Bruce informed you?" the man mused. "Looks like you weren't important enough, I guess."

My back hit one of the trees. I quickly put the pieces together.

"You're- You're-"

"I'm what, angel?" he leered.

" _A demon,_ " I breathed

A loud laugh echoed through the silent forest, scaring me a bit. I could barely blink before he lunged at me. Thankfully, I was just as fast, managing to get out of the way.

The demon’s disguise melted away, replaced by another man, with dark grey wings which had white tips. They were quite beautiful if they didn't represent something so atrocious.

"Oh, little angel,” the demon sang. "Don't think you can outdo me. I was an angel once, you know? Just like you... Head Angel, Bruce's sidekick, his fucking _servant,_ ” he snarled, lunging after me again.

I ducked and slipped behind him.

"Wh-Where are the other angels?" I asked, cursing myself for sounding out of breath.

The demon _giggled._ "They're busy having _fun,_ ” he said before laughing like a maniac again. "Wanna go see?" he asked before pouncing again, catching me off guard.

I hit the ground with a thud, the demon landing on top of me. I could see his face close up now. He had blue eyes, much like mine. His hair fell in front of his face in an messy but attractive curtain. His lips were pulled into a hateful sneer, and his strong hands pinned mine above my head.

His head tilted to the side. "You're prettier than most. Maybe you'll last longer, too." he said before pushing against my forehead hard, making me scream and black out.

~

I groaned as I woke up for the second time that day. My arm hurt, and I sat up from the cold, hard ground. I looked around, and I realized that I was in a cell.

I ran up to the door and shook the bars hard. I looked around, and I was horrified with what I saw.

The missing angels – they were all in their own cells, seemingly lost in their own worlds.

I looked closer, and I was absolutely repulsed. One of them had no clothes on, working himself up and down on a large, pink _thing._ I searched my human vocabulary for the word. _A dildo_ , I thought.

Another one was pulling hard at his own cock, moaning loudly. One of them, a woman, also had her hands between her legs, and I looked away as quickly as I could. Finally, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone familiar.

"Sam!" I shouted.

My former friend, who had gone missing in action four years ago, looked over at me.

"Hah, D-Dick?" he moaned.

I swallowed and clenched the bars harder. "What are you doing? You're going to be punished! Stop that!" He was also thrusting something in and out of his ass.

"It f-feels so g-gooood,” he moaned loudly. "C-Can't stop!" he cried out.

I wanted to cry and tear out my hair. For Sam. For all of them. They had been tainted, just like Bruce had said.

"No, Sam!" I yelled. "Please! You're an angel! Why're you like this?"

Sam gave a loud laugh, and half moaned. "J-Jason is g-good,” he said shakily as he came down from his high.

I shook my head in confusion. "Jason? What’s-"

"Ah! You're awake!" A loud voice said.

I turned and saw the demon from earlier. "You!"

He gave me a lazy grin. "Dick,” he greeted.

I crossed my arms. "Demon,” I said coolly. "Let them go. And let me go."

The demon shook his head. "You see, Dick, I do not keep them here against their will. Ask any of them." He gestured to Sam, who was smiling back at him.

"You can't be serious." I said, mostly directed at Sam.

The demon strolled over to me. "Dick, babe-"

"Don't call me that, demon!" I snapped. "I refuse to become like _them,_ especially to the likes of _you!"_

The demon seemed unfazed. He tsked several times and chuckled. "They're all like that when they start,” he said softly, reaching through the bars to touch me. I slapped his hand away, his touch searing my skin. Not literally, but it certainly felt like it.

"Come with me, Dick," he said. I heard the lock click and the door opened. I didn't move.

"Don't make me go in there,” he warned. His face flashed with anger. It was hard to think he'd once been an angel.

I crossed my arms defiantly. "I'm not like the others," I said, already doubting my own words. The demon was sinfully handsome, and I couldn't deny that I had a slight attraction to his looks, but looks could be deceptive, and I learned that long ago.

The demon walked in, his grey wings brushing up against the bars. His presence filled the cell with an unbearable heat, making it hard to breathe. "Dick..." he sang quietly.

I gulped, backing up against the wall. I felt like I had no willpower. My eyes were stuck on the blue eyes of the demon.

He leaned in close, smirking in my face. I took a shaky breath. "What do you want? From me, from Bruce, from us angels?" I nearly pleaded.

"Nothing you have, darling." He reached up and traced his fingers along my cheek lightly.

"Then let me go!" I choked out. My breathing sped up, and my eyes grew wet. I wasn't ready for this! I didn't ask for this!

"But then you'll have to go back with a failed mission. Angels don't quit, do they?" He was quoting Bruce, who often said that.

"I'm not quitting."

"Good. I wanted to keep you around longer." He leaned in and touched his lips gently to my cheek. I felt myself growing hot, and I looked away, glaring at the ground.

"And Dickie? My name is Jason, for future reference." He said calmly as he sauntered away. "Later, _babe."_

The demon – I still refused to go by his name – was absolutely insufferable! I had no idea what he was doing, or what the hell he wanted. But I knew I couldn't give in to him.

So I sat in the corner of my cell all day, wishing I could block out all the sounds of the angels around me. Just when I thought I was about to go crazy, I heard my cell door open. Someone was standing there. Not the demon, thankfully, but an angel.

I gasped and stood quickly. "Are- Are you here to get me out?" I asked, choking on my words.

The angel nodded. He didn't seem like the type to be an angel, but I was not to judge. This angel had a mysterious aura to him, dangerous and a bit dark. Very peculiar for an angel. He seemed vaguely familiar though.

As he led me out of my cell, I tugged on his white shirt. "What about them?" I asked quietly.

The angel shrugged. "Wasn't given any instruction about them,” he said.

I gaped, looking back at the nineteen angels in the cells. "You- We can't just leave them in there!"

The angel kept walking, his wings folded neatly on his back. I huffed and ran after him, my feet hitting the cold ground over and over again as I ran after him.

"Wait!" I said. "What's your name?" I asked.

The angel looked me up and down before answering. "Roy."

"Roy, Roy, Roy..." I repeated over and over again in my head. As we walked up out of the basement, it seemed, it hit me. "Roy! You- You were sent on the same mission as me, if- if I remember correctly. But you were reported as missing in action! How-?"

My question was answered before it was even voiced. The demon walked into the room as well, a smile on his face.

"Thanks, darling," the demon said, leaning up and kissing Roy on the mouth.

I visibly flinched and stepped away from Roy. "Traitor," I hissed.

Roy raised an eyebrow at me and turned to the demon. "You didn't explain to him?"

The demon shrugged. "Not yet, no."

"Explain what?" I asked, taking a few more steps back.

The demon gave me a thoughtful look. "Dick, why don't you sit?" He gestured to the couch nearby and took a seat himself. The demon nodded at Roy, who nodded back and walked out of the room, leaving us alone.

I didn't budge.

"Sit," he said firmly again.

I shook my head.

The demon sighed. "I said, _sit._ "

I felt myself walking unwillingly towards the couch, and I was unceremoniously plopped down into the seat. I couldn't move from that position either. I had no control over my own body. Stupid human weaknesses.

"Listen, demon. Someone's going to catch you, sooner or later," I said fiercely. "They're just going to send down more and more powerful angels. One day, Bruce might even come down here himself!"

The demon laughed. "Dick, please, call me Jason. I already told you. And I can tell you are bluffing. Bruce is too afraid to come face me himself. So he sent you. You haven't been a Head Angel long, have you?"

I didn't answer him, keeping my mouth in a straight line and crossing my arms protectively in front of my chest.

"Yes, quite a baby. So young... so easy to break." He smiled widely, his gaze moving up my body shamelessly.

I was still fixed in my spot, so I could do nothing as he moved closer. He was nearly in my face, and I could probably see his pores if I looked close enough. But I was more terrified for my sanity. His eyes stared deep into mine, almost like he was trying to put me in a trance.

"Ever heard of a Demon's Kiss, Dick?" he whispered, his breath flowing over my lips.

I shook my head slowly. I didn't want to find out what it was either.

He tilted his head to the side and smirked. "Well, I haven't either, but I think it'll be cool, don't you?" he asked. Our noses were nearly touching now, and for some reason, I _wanted_ to feel his skin on mine. I remember the flow of intense heat, how hard it was for me to breathe. The thought made my cheeks heat up and made my body freeze at the same time.

I gulped and tried to break his gaze, but I couldn't. He was literally captivating.

"Want to find out what a demon's kiss might actually feel like?" The demon asked, smiling at my terrified expression.

I wanted to shake my head, I wanted to push him away, but I couldn't. I didn't have the power to move anymore, and I couldn't get myself to even form words.

I saw him smirk before closing the gap between us, kissing me full on the lips. I let out a squeak of surprise, my eyes still wide open, my body still trying to find a way to move.

There was that searing heat again. It was like he'd shoved a star down my throat, burning me, consuming me from the inside out. His lips weren't cold or dry or anything I thought a demon's lips would be – not that I imagine what demons’ lips feel like. They were soft. He smelled nice, too. Rosewater and fresh strawberries.

When he pulled away, I was still in that same shocked position.

"Just like every other angel,” he laughed quietly, and that immediately sparked anger in me.

Lightning fast, I brought my hand up and smacked him hard across the face. He stumbled back in surprise, but it quickly morphed to anger. He'd lost his hold on me, so I stood. I was taller than he was at the moment, so I used that to my advantage, hoping to intimidate him.

"How dare you!" he roared.

I stood my ground and glared at him. "You took advantage of me! I am _not_ like other angels! How do you think I made it up to the Head Angel status at this young of an age? I'm smart, demon. Do not think I'm easier to break than any regular angel. You disgust me," I hissed.

The demon was almost glowing with anger now. "You have no fucking idea!" He yelled. "I used to sit where you sat! I knew what it's like! You know nothing about the world you live in! Don’t think you know anything about me! Bruce is playing all you angels like the perfectly tuned orchestra in whatever master plan he has! You don't know anything about _him!_ Because I’ll tell you what he was to me, _Dick_. He took me in, he helped me, he pretended to be my friend. He practically _raised_ me." He was breathing hard now, his nostrils flaring and I could feel the power radiating off of me. "You've never experienced _betrayal_ by someone you thought of as _family_ ," he hissed.

He was lying. Bruce would do no such thing! He was Head Angel! He ran our world so well – it was flawless. There was no way this demon had such an intimate relationship with Bruce.

Suddenly the door burst open, and Roy ran in. "Jay?" He rushed over to the demon. "Calm down, please. You have to calm down," he said softly, rubbing the demon's back. "Shh... deep breaths."

The demon's hands were clenched tightly by his side, and Roy was whispering quietly to him. Suddenly, the demon slumped into Roy's arms and buried his face in his shoulder. I was confused. I thought the last thing a demon would do was show weakness.

Roy turned to me. "You should probably leave," he said quietly.

I wasn't expecting that, but I took this as a ticket to freedom. I went quickly to the door, trying to bury the slight guilt I was feeling. I shut the door behind me and realized that I had no idea how to get out. So I just walked through the building, hoping to find an exit.

The place was huge. I didn't even know where we were anymore! I'd walked past the basement plenty of times, and I still couldn't find the exit. I was starting to lose hope. Maybe there isn't an exit. But then how did I get in here?

I slowed to a walk, leaning against the wall of the building. I was hopelessly lost, and I really just wanted to find my way back. Did Bruce know I'd been kidnapped? Maybe they'll send help soon.

"They're not going to come find you."

I snapped my head back and saw him standing there. He was smirking, as usual, as if nothing had happened.

"Go away, demon," I snapped.

He eyed me with amusement. "Still calling me demon, eh?" He laughed to himself. "How about this: I'll leave you alone, if you call me by my name."

I gritted my teeth. I wanted to get him to go away, but I didn't want him to know that he had some sort of power over me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the calm wash over me.

"Please, leave me alone," I said more coolly.

He just laughed again. "Call me, Jason. C'mon, Dickie, I know you can do it."

" _Don't_ call me that!" I huffed in annoyance. "You don't deserve to be called by your name. Have you seen what you're doing to those innocent angels? They're not allowed back now!" I glared at him harshly.

"An angel with an attitude. I like you. Yes, you're harder to break, but not impossible. Your fragile exterior is much more beautiful when you realize how strong it actually is."

"Will you go- go away!” I had hesitated for a split second, and my face flushed red. I wanted to pretend that I didn’t hear him, but I couldn’t help acknowledging his words. But I wasn’t about to let him have the satisfaction.

I could nearly hear his smirk. "Oh, you didn't know? You're beautiful, Dick. Anyone tell you that before?"

I wanted to answer, but I knew he was trying to get me to surrender to him. So I shook myself and stood up, brushing off my clothes. I stalked off down the hallway again, hoping I'd find some place to get away from him. Unfortunately, the demon followed behind me.

"Will you stop?" I asked sharply.

"Call me Jason, then."

"No."

"Alright." He followed me some more.

It was getting on my nerves. I really wish that I could learn to keep my cool. I clenched my jaw together and tried to keep my fingers from going into a fist.

"Just stop it!" I finally snapped, whirling around.

The demon raised an eyebrow at me and leaned casually against the wall. "Say please."

"Please," I huffed.

"Mm... that wasn't good enough," he teased. "A little more pleading."

I rolled my eyes and gritted my teeth, giving a sarcastic smile. "Please?"

"Please what?"

"No, I'm not calling you that." I said crossly. "Now leave me alone."

"Ah, ah, ah!" He wagged his finger at me.

I blew out a long breath and gathered up all the dignity I had. "Please... J-Jason," I said, coming out more of a squeak than actual words.

"Hm... didn't quite hear you there," he teased.

"Jason," I said a little louder, secretly liking the way his name rolled off my tongue.

"One more time?"

"Don't push it," I warned. "Now please leave me alone."

"But, babe!" he whined. I bristled at the nickname. "Aren’t you lost? You need someone to guide you back, don't you?" He asked, reaching out and taking my hand. I snatched it away.

Jason raised an eyebrow at me and held out his hand again for me to take. I glared at it for a long time, not wanting to take it. But somewhere deep down, I wanted to feel the way his hand wrapped around mine. Before I even realized it, my hand had reached out slowly, and he took it.

His triumphant smile made me boil with anger, but I couldn't find the will to take my hand back, so I let him hold it as we walked down the long hall in silence. I put as much space between us as I could without my arm being pulled out of its socket. I could feel the awkwardness from my side, and the smirks he occasionally cast me did not help.

"Don't you have a boyfriend?" I finally snapped after we'd been walking for about ten minutes.

"Oh, you mean Roy?" Jason asked cheerfully.

I nodded.

Jason laughed. "No, we're... friends with benefits," he said slowly.

I made a face at that. "That's disgusting," I said.

He shrugged. "Not really. It's just like a boyfriend with no romantic interests."

I rolled my eyes, and they landed on the door next to us. "Hey..." I said slowly. "We've already passed this door. Are you leading me in circles?" I accused, crossing my arms and taking my hand from his.

Jason grinned. “I might've."

"Why?" I asked slowly, suspicion growing.

Jason met my eyes, his startling blue ones locking with mine. "Because you'd finally opened up a little bit, and I wanted to make the moment last. Dick, I like you. Like, I really like you," he said, not a trace of humor left in his voice.

My throat went dry. I wanted him to start laughing, to give me a sign that he was joking, but he didn't. I didn't even move as he took a step forward. My eyes never left his as he put his hand on my shoulder. I held my breath for the moment of laughter, but his eyes were so serious. His lips were parted slightly, and I suddenly realized.

"You're beautiful, too." I whispered, almost silently.

I saw a small smile creep onto his face. "Thank you," he whispered back, his other hand cupping my cheek lightly.

My heart, my human heart, was beating like crazy. I felt Jason leaning in, his presence getting closer. Our bodies were practically pressed together now, and I wanted to trace my hands down his jaw and feel the sharp cut of bone and muscles there.

He leaned in fast, capturing my lips in his. I let my eyes slide shut, and I moved my head to the side a little bit, so our noses didn't bump together. His lips were burning into mine again, almost as if trying to melt together. In fact, I don't think I would've minded if they did.

Jason pulled away, and thankfully, he wasn't smirking like I'd expected him to. He looked almost in awe. His hand slowly left my cheek, tracing its way down my neck and chest before it dropped to his side.

I was still staring at his face, even after he'd stopped touching me and took a step back. "Um, I'll- I'll take you to a room, if you want. To rest."

I blushed and looked away, clearing my throat. "Can't you just let me go?" I asked, only half-heartedly this time. I knew he wasn't going to let me go anytime soon. In fact, I might as well give up all hope of ever going back.

Jason laughed, but it wasn't a mean laugh. "No, you're too precious. I finally kiss another Head Angel, so I'm not letting you get away just yet."

" _Another_ Head Angel?" I asked, feeling a sharp sting go through me.

Jason looked surprised. "Oh, I- yeah,” he admitted. "When I was Head Angel, I was a bit of a slut. Only kissing though, promise." He gave me a teasing smile and a wink.

I couldn't help but feel a little jealous. "Oh."

We walked in silence, and I concentrated on the turns we took. _Left, right, right, left, right._

"Here," he finally said, pushing open a door. It was a bedroom with lavish furniture. My mouth fell open. Was he seriously letting me have this room? I thought he was going to shove me back into a cell or something.

He finally looked into the room. "Oh!" he said. "Sorry, wrong room." He quickly shut the door and locked it. I was a little disappointed, but I knew it was too good to be true. Jason might like me, but he didn't like me that much.

We walked a few more steps and he pushed open the door next to it. He looked inside first. "Ah, here we go." He let me see the room, and I nearly fainted right then and there.

It was even more exquisite than the room before it. It was decorated with bright golds and deep reds. There was a huge circular rug covering the dark oak floors. A huge bed with fancy blankets and heavily decorated pillows stood in the middle of the room.

"Are you joking?" I asked. “Where did you even get all this stuff?”

He shook his head and pulled me in. “I have my ways.”

My eyes were bugging out of my head. Where I lived, with Wally, we had a small apartment with white walls, white furniture, and simple beds. This is so beautiful.

I gave Jason one more look before diving headfirst into the bed. I still didn't trust him all the way, but this was really generous.

"Wow," I said, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling.

"Like it?" Jason asked quietly, sitting down beside me.

I nodded. "Yeah." I couldn't help but start smiling. Then I frowned. "Why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Dick, I like you," Jason said simply. "You're the most amazing, beautiful, pure, young, intelligent angel I've ever met," he said softly. "More than any of the angels downstairs, more than Roy, more than Bruce. You're perfection, Dick."

I looked over at him, and he was serious. He looked at me with such soulful eyes that I'd only seen on certain beings. Angels. Jason was an angel. He wasn't a demon, no. Bruce had been wrong. Jason couldn't be a demon. He's too beautiful, too true, too real. He was an angel.

I reached out to touch his face. I traced his jaw slowly, going behind his neck, and quickly pulling him in, crushing his lips against mine. It felt so nice. He felt so nice. It didn't feel wrong at all because Jason had been an angel. And he still was.

I heard him squeal in surprise, but he was pushing back at me too. I felt his tongue trace my bottom lip tentatively, and I opened my mouth a little, letting his tongue slide inside. I died inside when I felt his tongue touch mine. I couldn't help but press even harder against him, making him grab my hair and tug gently. I let out a moan, a small one.

I felt Jason climb on top of where I lay, leaning over me and pushing me into the bed. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in. He didn't protest.

He pulled away too soon. I let out a small whine of protest, and Jason smile at me, pressing a smaller kiss onto my lips. "I'll be across the hall, Dickie,” he whispered. "Come find me if you ever need anything,” he said before climbing off of me. "Night, babe."

I smiled after him, not even complaining at the nicknames anymore. I watched as he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

That's when the realization hit me. Bruce had been wrong this entire time. Jason was good. He must've had a method to his madness. Bruce was stupid for betraying him. And then lying to _me._ Like he'd said, I was smarter. I knew who was sincere or not. And Bruce's colder, faraway attitude wasn't looking so trustworthy anymore.

~

The next morning, I awake to find a set of clothes next to the bed. I reached over and look at it.

It was a black shirt. Well, not really a shirt. It looked like a piece of sheer cloth that had been hastily sewn together into something that resembled a shirt. Then, someone took a few minutes to add several buttons to make a blouse-like article of clothing. I sighed and took off my dirty white shirt, tossing it onto the floor somewhere and slipping the new shirt over my head.

The cloth was cool on my skin, and it fit quite nicely. I buttoned up a few buttons, leaving the top two undone. Then, I reached for the jeans. Extra skinny, blacker than night. Just great.

I slid them on, a bit difficult around my ass, but I managed to squeeze in there. After a few minutes of huffing and puffing, I walked over to the mirror I'd seen in on the closet door. I looked at myself, and I was surprised.

When I wore white, I looked much more innocent. Like what one would expect of an angel. But dressed in all black was a different story. I looked what some would call "dangerously handsome", if I'd say so myself.

The door opened, and in walked Jason. He saw me looking at myself in the mirror and walked over.

"Like it?" he asked.

"It's... different," I finally said. "But nice."

He stood next to me and looked at my figure as well. "I'd agree. Very nice." He ran a hand down my stomach.

"Hey, no touching." I said, smacking playfully at his hand.

Jason took his hand away and held it out to me. I took it without hesitation.

"Where to?" I asked as he led me out the door.

Jason didn't answer. He just gave me a smile and led the way. I walked a few steps behind him, marveling at his wings. I obviously didn't have mine, but his were just as good.

I reached out to touch them, and I felt him shiver. "What are you doing, Dickie?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

"Sorry, I just miss my wings," I said, taking my hand away.

"No, it's okay," he said, so I put my hand back, feeling the smooth feathers.

"Why are your wings grey?" I asked curiously. "With white tips? Most demons have black wings, don't they?"

Jason sighed. "That is true, yes. But I didn’t officially become demon. I just left, you know? So my wings turned grey instead. The white is what I held on to, my angel half. Hope that I might want to go back someday,” he laughed bitterly. "But it slowly goes away, day by day. It won't be long before it's all grey."

I felt bad for him. "Do you ever miss Heaven?" I asked.

He was quiet for a long time. The only sound present was that of our footsteps. "Yes," he whispered. "Some things."

"Why'd you leave then?" I asked.

"Don't you think that's too many questions?" he said a bit coldly.

"Right, sorry," I said, dropping my hand to my side.

The rest of the walk was silent. We walked into a different room and I saw Roy sitting there already, whistling to himself. I eyed his wings as well. They were snow white, like a normal angel's wings.

I wondered briefly why he had white wings. But it was all wiped out as soon as Jason gave Roy a hug and kissed his cheek. My nostrils flared and I pulled out a chair loudly, reminding them of my presence.

Roy gave me a look which I ignored. Instead, I sat down heavily, giving Jason a huge smile that was most certainly fake.

"So how'd you sleep, Dick?" Jason asked, oblivious to my blooming jealousy.

"Very well, thank you," I nodded.

We ate in silence, and I think even Jason felt the tension in the air. I knew that Jason wasn't technically mine, but I also knew that he liked me, or so he claimed, so why was he still kissing Roy? I was prettier than Roy, right? Of course I was, he told me so.

I smiled to myself, feeling a bit bad for Roy.

Jason gave a dazzling smile from across the table as we finished up. "So, Dickie,” he said, cross his legs under the table and leaning back. "What do you want to do today?"

"Hm?" I was a bit surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't like being confined in here, and since I'm not going to risk losing you, we'll have to do something in here,” he said. "Anything in mind?"

I put my fork down slowly and wiped my mouth. "I don't know," I said.

"What did you like doing before... you know, before you died?" he asked quietly.

I thought hard. What did I do a lot? "I did like baking,” I said. “Certainly wasn’t very good at it though.”

Jason looked mildly surprised. "Oh? Well, you’re in luck. I _can_ cook, so I’ll teach you.”

I let a small smile slip onto my lips. "Okay," I said. I held Jason' gaze for a long time, just smiling at each other. When I looked away from him, I realized that Roy was gone. I looked around in confusion.

"Where'd he go?" I asked.

Jason shrugged. "Not sure."

I grinned even harder. Roy was gone now, so he won't get between Jason and me. I stood and held out my hand. "Lead me to the kitchen!" I demanded playfully.

Jason laughed as he walked casually around the table, looking me up and down again. "You look beautiful as always," he said.

He took my hand, and I gave him a slightly confused look. "You've literally only seen me for a day," I pointed out.

Jason shrugged. "I was a Head Angel for a long time," he said. "I remember when you first came," he smirked.

Right, it was only ten Earth years ago. And every five Earth years is equal to one year in the angel world.

I blushed down to my bones and nudged his shoulder, making him stumble to the side. He laughed and squeezed my hand. "It's not a bad thing!"

"I'm just embarrassed because I don't remember you," I mumbled.

"That's okay. You were a Novitiate then, so you were getting used to everything. You probably don't remember any of the other Head Angels then," Jason said. "Either way, I remember you, and you're always looking splendid. Even in the simply drab garments they make angels wear."

"What do demons wear, then?" I asked out of curiosity.

Jason shrugged. "Anything they want,” he smirked, "Or nothing."

I snorted at his suggestive tone.

“To the kitchen, shall we?” Jason led me out of the dining room, and we turned a few corners before arriving in the kitchen. It was big, but more like a kitchen in a large house. Two women were bustling around in there, wearing a black dress and a white apron over it. “Melissa, Margret, you two are excused.”

They muttered quick thanks, a small smile and hurried out of the kitchen. I watched them leave.

“Are they-”

“Humans.”

My mouth dropped open. “How could you?! Did you kidnap them as well?” I asked, starting to get angry again.

“No, before you say anything, I did not. I saved them, as a matter of fact. Those two were drug addicts and living on the streets. I brought them here, gave them a place to sleep, food to eat, and all they have to do is do a bit of cooking and cleaning. Is that so much to ask?”

My anger died, only a small frown left on my lips. “Oh.”

“Does Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes have anything else to say?” Jason snarked. I shook my head quickly. He smiled and took my hand in his. “Good, now what are we making?”

“Something simple. Red velvet cupcakes?”

Jason made a satisfied sound. “Haven’t had those in a lifetime.”

I decided not to comment on that. I knew a few angels who had been rather sensitive to death jokes, so I had trained myself not to say anything about them.

“Do you even know how to make cupcakes?” Jason asked. I shook my head, blushing a bit. Jason laughed. “Okay, I’ll tell you the ingredients, and you can go find them.”

I smiled and nodded, jokingly saluting him.

“Flour, eggs, baking soda, butter, cocoa powder,” Jason said, rattling off ingredients from memory as I scrambled around the kitchen. Unfortunately, he probably put too much trust in me to start with.

By the time we got all the ingredients, I had dropped two eggs, spilled flour all over the ground, spilled red food coloring all over my hair (it was on the top shelf, and I’m not that tall, okay), and had butter smeared on my cheek.

“Not bad,” he said cheerily, surveying our work. I just scoffed. “Ready for the next step?”

“I think I should just sit down and watch,” I said, eyeing the mess. I pitied the girls that were going to clean this up.

Jason huffed. “Really? You’re the one who wanted to bake, Dick. Get the mixing bowl and preheat the oven for me.”

After a lot of gentle coaxing from Jason, I set to work measuring the ingredients into the bowl. I was starting to wonder if I had always been such a klutz as a human.

“Jason!” I yelped as I turned the electric mixer on too high, spraying butter, milk and eggs all over the front of my shirt and all over Jason’s apron.

“Ah, you asshole,” Jason groaned, reaching for the paper towels and attempted to get the batter off my shirt and his apron. “Fuck it. Just take it off.” He took the electric mixer from me and set it to a more normal speed while I pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it across the kitchen.

We had made enough batter for 4 dozen, but Jason only produced two cupcake tins. I watched as he carefully poured batter into the tins. Halfway through filling the second set, I reached over and stroked his wings again. He startled hard, his wings flaring and striking out. They knocked the tins off the counter and spilled batter all over the floor.

“Oops,” I said, staring down at the ground. I looked back up at him slowly, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

“You probably did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he deadpanned, folding his wings tightly against his back.

I shook my head, my hair flopping around in my face. I pushed it back with my sticky hands. “Accident, I swear.”

“How does one person have so many accidents?” he sighed in an exasperated tone. He cleaned up the spilled batter and washed the tins again. He started filling them, ordering me to sit farther away.

I sat down for the rest of the time, sitting a few feet away. I watched as he carefully poured the batter in, sneaking my finger into the bowl when I thought he wasn’t looking.

“That has raw eggs in it,” he said after he caught me for the fourth time. Then he sighed. He snatched my finger away from me and sucked it clean. “Whatever, it’s not like we can get salmonella and die.”

Great, more death jokes.

He finally got the cupcakes in the oven, and we sat on kitchen island, waiting for it to cook. We had _carefully_ removed everything from the island, wiping it of excess flour and sugar. I sat with my legs hanging off the edge and Jason sat behind me. His wings wrapped around us, and I gently ran my hands over them, preening them unconsciously. Even in their dull, grey color, they were beautiful.

“You said… Bruce raised you,” I said, breaking the silence. I paused, testing the waters. Jason’ shoulders had tensed, but he didn’t say anything. “What did you mean?”

Jason was silent for a while. “I died pretty young,” he started. “When I was, like, fifteen or something. I wasn’t that good of a kid to start with. I got into a lot of trouble with the law and all, so it was a miracle I ended up an angel. And since I was technically still a child, I could still grow, even though I was an angel. And Bruce… he took me in. Raised me like his own kid.” He paused for a few seconds. “It was great. He taught me a lot of what I know, telling me secrets only the Head Angels were supposed to know. I- I considered him family. I never really _had_ a family, so it was special and important to me. But one day, both of us had come down to Earth to have a kind of vacation, if you will. Everything was going great, and then, we got into a stupid fight over something that I don’t even remember anymore.” Jason’s arms tightened around my waist. “Bruce and I never fought. Sure, we disagreed sometimes, but never fought.”

“Bruce had stormed away, and left me in some dark part of town. I could have just went back, but I was worried for Bruce, as mad as I was at him. Either way, I searched for him, and sure enough, he was in trouble. I found him in some alleyway, tied down and beaten by a group of three demons.”

I gasped softly, accidentally pulling one of Jason’ feathers out. He winced, and I quickly muttered an apology. I tucked the feather behind my ear and asked him to continue.

“He was hurt. Badly wounded, but he couldn’t die, so all he could do was endure and endure. The demons knew that. They- They just kept taunting him and laughing at how they had the leader of the angels in such a weak spot. And I got mad at them for doing that to him, so I confronted them. I tried fighting them, but an angel can’t hurt someone so easily, demon or not. So I ended up being pinned to the wall as well.

“I begged them to let Bruce go, I begged them to set him free, I told them I would do anything.” Jason sighed heavily again, his shoulders slumping. “And so they let him go. And Bruce left. He just left me there, and flew away the first chance he got. At first, I thought he was going for help, but he never came back. The demons locked me up in a place, tortured me, pulled my feathers, and treated me like utter shit,” Jason growled. His fists were clenched tightly now.

“They made me-“ he choked up. “ _do things._ I- I was horribly disgusted in myself, and I got my first grey feathers that year. But I always had the hope that Bruce would come save me, but he didn’t. I was alone, Dick. Nobody cared.”

“Jay…”

“Four years of that went by, and slowly, the demons came to trust me. They saw that I was too tainted to ever return, so they agreed to let me go, on one condition. If the angels were to ever come back to try to take me, I would do whatever I could to stop them. My job was to ruin the angels one by one. And at that point, I was willing to do that. I didn’t see angels as these pure, selfless creatures anymore. They were self-centered cowards,” Jason spat. There was a ringing silence after what he said. I didn’t dare say anything.

A loud  _ding_ echoed through the room, making us both jump. Jason hurriedly slid off the counter, away from me. He pulled the oven door open, grabbed the oven mitts, and pulled the tins out. I slid off the counter as well.

"Ooh, they smell amazing," I said. I went up behind him, pulling his taller form to me, his silken wings pressing against my chest. “Now what do we do?”

“You? I suggest you don’t do anything,” Jason said, smirking. I made a small pouting sound and kissed him on the spot between his wings, burying my face into his back. I didn't pull away. He smelled nice, so I nuzzled his shirt, breathing deeply.

Jason put the cream cheese frosting into the two bags and twisted two tips onto them. He handed one back to me. I took one, not too sure what to do with it. I’d seen people use them before, but never really used one myself. I stood in front of a tray of cupcakes, frowning at them. I heard Jason laugh quietly. Then, his arms come around me and take my hands in his. Then, slowly guiding me, we frosted the first one. It was rather messy, but I felt kind of proud. By the fifth cupcake, they were turning out very nice.

Halfway through the sixth cupcake, the doors to the kitchen burst open. Both Jason and I snapped our heads up, glancing to see who it was. There, standing, no  _kneeling,_ in the doorway was Roy. His handsome face was contorted in discomfort. His arms were held behind him, and his wings were bound tightly by familiar glowing gold bands. And standing behind him, holding his arms, was Bruce, his face stony. Flanking him, were four angels - Head Angels Clark and Diana, and Senior Operatives Kori and Wally. Bruce, Diana and Clark did not react when they saw us, but Kori’s eyebrows rose, and Wally's mouth dropped open.

"Dick," Bruce said through tightly gritted teeth. "What do you think you're doing?"

I felt Jason’s arms tensing around me, trapping me in his embrace. His hands squeezed the frosting bag hard, sending frosting overflowing onto the cupcake. "Uh... frosting cupcakes?" I said, hesitantly.

Bruce made an unsatisfied noise. His eyes fell on Jason. "Jason," he said, his tone cold. I instinctively moved closer to him. Bruce grunted unhappily. "You look well."

"I wonder who's fault that is," Jason said, his voice much calmer than the way his hands were clenched into fists in front of me.

"You cannot say it was my fault, could you?" Bruce asked. "When you escaped, you could have come back, you realize? You weren't banned, but you knew that, didn't you?"

"Maybe," Jason agreed. "But your actions made me disgusted enough that I would rather stay on Earth than return and see you again."

"Disgust _you_? Have you seen what you did with those angels you keep locked in your basement? They don't want to leave, Jason," Bruce yelled. "And now you would've done the same with Dick had we not come down here!"

"He has not done anything to me, Bruce!" I said angrily. "Do not accuse him of such!"

Bruce laughed humorlessly. "No, he didn't do the same thing, but he's smart. Jason's using you. He has emotionally manipulated you into thinking he cares. And now you won't want to return. Is that not the same as what he's done to the other angels?"

At that, I broke away from Jason, stepping back and putting space between us, as if he had burned me. He immediately spun around, gasping and stepping towards me, but I moved back.

"Is it true?" I asked, backing into the counter.

Jason didn't meet my eyes, staring at my chest instead. "Dick, you can't believe him! He-"

"Is it true?!" I asked, cutting him off. "Are you emotionally manipulating me into thinking that you're different, that you're better than them, just so I would stay here and it would hurt the angel world? Is it true? Stop lying to me, and just say it to my face."

His shoulders slumped. He raised his head a little, looking up at me sadly. "Yes, that's what I had planned to do, but-" He took a step at me, but I pushed him back, cutting him off.

"No, stop, get away from me," I choked, shaking my head. "I can't believe you."

"You shouldn't have believed him anyways, Dick," Bruce said from behind me, not at all helping. "He's a demon, he's manipulative, it's in his nature to  _lie."_

I bit my lip, glancing back at Jason, who was giving me a pleading look. I wanted to correct Bruce, telling him that Jason wasn't a demon, but I said nothing. I started backing towards Bruce and the other angels in the doorway.

"Dick, please don't," Jason said. "Please. He'll- He'll Eradicate me." That made me stop, but not turn around.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands curling into fists. I knew that Bruce would Eradicate him, but again, no one deserved such a punishment. No one. And I was all that stood between Bruce and Jason now. If I backed Jason up, Bruce could easily still overpower us, but not necessarily. But if Bruce did manage, he'd surely Eradicate me, too.

I closed the last few steps between myself and Bruce. I was immediately grabbed by Diana and Clark, who held my arms behind my back. They did not make me kneel beside Roy, though.

"Your fate has come, Jason," Bruce said. "You'll finally get what you deserve."

I looked at Jason. He had tears in his eyes, but they hadn't poured out yet. He saw me looking at him, and he dropped his head, his wings coming around to hug his body. I couldn't look at him anymore, so I looked away. Bruce commanded Wally and Kori to grab Jason, which they did. He didn't even resist.

Bruce snapped his fingers, and a moment later, I was standing in my apartment again, the one I shared with Wally. He was sitting on the couch, looking at me intently.

"Don't," I told him, not looking straight at him.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could hear you thinking it."

"Oh, you take a trip down to Earth and suddenly you can read minds, too?" Wally said in a slightly accusing tone.

"I  _didn't_ want to be sent down there, I  _didn't_ want to be captured, and I  _didn't_ want to have any interaction with Jason whatsoever!" I yelled, getting angry at Wally.

He just sat where he was, arms crossed and glaring at me. "So how would you explain the let's-frost-cupcakes-together-like-a-lovesick-couple scene we walked in on?"

I glared at him. "He was teaching me how to cook,” I mumbled.

"That wasn't teaching, Dickie."

I flinched at the name. "Whatever. So what's the deal?"

Wally sighed, biting his lip. He looked like he didn't want to deliver the news, so I knew it was bad. "The Eradication Ceremony is tomorrow morning. We're all expected to attend. And Bruce got us front row seats. I think he wants you to have the best view possible."

I kept my face expressionless. "And?"

"You lose your title as Head Angel."

I gritted my teeth, but I had expected it. "So I'm a Novitiate now?"

Wally pulled a face. "Not exactly. Um, Bruce hasn't decided what to do with you yet. He said he won't Eradicate you, but- but you might be banished, Dick."

My mouth dropped open now. "Are you fucking kidding me? He's going to banish me over something that was practically forced on me?"

Wally sighed. "Dick, I'm really sorry about this. Can I just ask you something?"

"What?" I asked defeatedly, sitting down across from Wally.

"You and um, Jason... are you...?"

"Dating, no. Had mutual affections for each other, somewhat. Or at least I thought he did."

Wally nodded slowly, which was a lot better than the reaction I was expecting. "Dick... do you still like him?"

I winced. Did I still like Jason? I don't know. His name still sent tingles down my spine, but at the same time, make my heart feel like someone had punched a hole through it. He was planning to betray me and play with my feelings. I wasn't okay with that, but... on some level, he had succeeded. I felt stupidly naïve. Was I really that easy to convince? Even so, I still felt…

"...Yes?"

"Why?"

I looked up at Wally, surprised. He was staring intently at me, no longer judging me. I could tell that he was genuinely curious.

"He's- He's true to himself and the people around him. He's not mean and horrible, really. He's got a big heart and an even bigger personality and he's just-" I stopped. I shook my head. "Why are you asking?"

Wally just looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. "Dick, I've had this feeling. It was this weird, unsettling kind of feeling that started when we arrived on Earth. At first, I thought it was because you were in danger or something. But when we found you, it was anything but that. However, the feeling kept getting stronger, and it was really bugging me. I realized as you were arguing with Bruce, that every time Bruce spoke, the feeling would spike, but the minute Jason said anything, it became somewhat muted. And I think," Wally swallowed hard. "I think that you're right. Jason isn't some mean and horrible demon. Bruce's the one who's doing things wrong."

I blinked at him a few times, not quite processing what he'd just told me. "So you believe me?"

Wally nodded.

I started to get excited before slouching down again. "But we can't do anything about it."

Wally smiled, a smile that looked so wicked, it could've rivaled Jason' smirks. " _We_ can't do anything, but maybe  _I_ can do something."

~

And that's how I found himself myself through the Eradication Hall at midnight.

My wings, which had come back when I'd arrived back in the angel world, had not yet been locked up like regular Novitiates. I assumed that was because Bruce had temporarily forgotten about me, which was quite convenient. They fluttered against the backs of my ankles, making no noise.

I walked past all the empty cells, avoiding the night guards. Wally had promised to distract the guards who were in front of Jason' and Roy's cells, while I broke them out. Simple plan, but so many things could go wrong.

Wally had slipped me the key at dinner, and I had noticed that the entire table of Head Angels, excluding me, had been missing from the hall. I could feel the weight of the golden key in my robes all night, a physical reminder of the guilt weighing down my heart.

I waited for a long time, holding my breath and waiting for Wally's signal. Nearly instantly, I heard a crash, and running feet. Wally was shouting, running quickly down the hall, screaming hysterically, speaking random jumbled words. Three guards flanked him, trying to get him to calm down and try to make sense of his hysterics.

Once they disappeared, I quickly ran down the hall in the opposite direction, adrenaline coursing through me. When I finally reached the last few cells, I peeked in, my heart thumping loudly. In the cell, Jason was slumped against the wall, his wings tied up behind him, and his head in his knees, which were pulled up to his chest. He looked like he was crying. A small window with bars was on the far wall, and the night breeze fluttered Jason' grey feathers.

I quickly pulled the key out, sticking it in the lock and twisted it. The well-oiled lock clicked silently, and I breathed out in relief. I pushed the door open silently and rushed in. Jason hadn't heard me.

I knelt down next to him, gently placing a hand on his wing. His head shot up, and even in the dark, I could see that his eyes were puffy and his nose rubbed red as well.

His eyes adjusted to the dark, and I saw them widen. "D-Dick?"

"Jay," I said with small smile. "I'm here."

He glanced around. "What- What are you doing here? If they find you here, they'll Eradicate you, too!"

"I'm helping you escape."

"Escape?"

"Escape," I said with a nod of certainty. "And I'm coming with you."

Jason looked at me blankly for a second before my words dawned on him. "You're- You're serious? You're willing to leave all this for me?"

I gulped and nodded. "If you want me to."

He jumped up and hugged me tightly. "Of course, I do. I'm sorry, Dickie. Really."

I smiled and hugged him back. "You're forgiven. Now we have to go."

I unlocked the chains holding his wings down and pulled him out of the cell.

"Wait," Jason stopped. "Roy."

I bit back a groan, pulling the key out again. I pushed it into the lock of the door next to Jason', unlocking it. The door was barely open before Jason rushed in, crouching down in front of Roy, who was looking lost and bewildered. I unlocked his wings as well, roughly pulling him up.

"Wh-What's happening?" Roy asked, standing and stumbling forward.

Jason smiled. "Dick's helping us escape."

Roy's eyebrows shot up. "Dick?" He finally looked at me.

"Confusion does not suit your features. Keep the idiot look," I grumbled. "Let's go already."

I ushered the two, who were standing way too close to each other for comfort, out of the cell and down the hall quickly and quietly. I retraced my steps on the way here, bursting into the warm night air, and out of the Eradication Hall.

"C'mon, we have to get to the portal to Earth," I told them, grabbing Jason' hand and giving Roy a small glare. He didn't notice. "Wally's waiting for us there."

"Wally? As in your redhead angel friend that came to capture us?" Jason asked, his voice slightly accusing.

I winced. "Yeah, him."

Jason rolled his eyes and huffed, but followed me quietly. The streets of Heaven were silent and calm. It wasn't as busy as it was during the day. I actually liked the idea of artificial nighttime, even though no one really slept, and just rested instead.

"The portal's just around the corner," I said quietly, pulling my white robes up a little to avoid tripping. I was clumsy enough as is.

We ran around the corner, with me in the lead, but stopped immediately. Both Roy and Jason crashed into me.

"I had a feeling you would pull a stunt like this," Bruce said, smirking. He was flanked by his posse of Head Angels.

I growled. "Step out of the way, Bruce."

"Oh, Dick. Who would've thought? You were such an innocent soul. So bright, so young, so easily manipulated by the likes of  _him._ " Bruce glared at Jason, who was stood up straighter, his features twisting into a grim frown, his wings tucked tightly to his back.

"You're wrong," I spat. "You're the one who's doing the manipulation. In fact, I was dumb to have even listened to you in the first place. And all of you," I said, looking at my fellow Head Angels. "Are also being manipulated by him. He's making himself look faultless, the victim, feeding off of your weaknesses."

"Dear Richard," Bruce laughed, the sound echoing through the empty streets. "What on Heaven or Earth are you talking about?"

"Why don't you tell them," I said, lowering my voice but keeping it emotionless. "Why do you tell them the truth of what you did so many years ago. Tell them now, all of them!"

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "You know, I'm getting tired of you and your two little demons." He looked at the other Head Angels, who had started whispering to each other. "Get them and lock them up. All  _three_ of them."

The Head Angels stumbled forward, slightly uncertainly. But when Bruce shouted "NOW!" They headed for me. I met them with a glare, spreading my wings to block Jason and Roy. Four of the angels came for me, and four tried to get behind me to get to Roy and Jason.

I gritted my teeth. This was not going to end well. Fighting was not in an angel's nature. I knew that Bruce could capture Jason with a snap of his fingers, but I also knew that his powers would not work on angels, which included me and for some reason, Roy.

I swept one of my wings out, smacking an angel off his feet, and he fell backwards on his back, yelling out loud. The other angels slowed down a bit, unsure of what to do.

From behind me, I heard Roy yell, and I turned around to see him wrestling with two angels of his own. The remaining six had formed a circle around Jason and I, slowly closing it.

Out of nowhere, I heard a loud yell, and Wally dropped down from the sky, practically flattening an angel under his weight. The angel groaned loudly, as Wally stood on his chest, grinning hard.

"Hiya, Dickie!" He said cheerfully, clapping me on the back as he joined me in the circle of the remaining four Head Angels.

Two of the angels, one on each side, leapt forward and grabbed my wings, and I screamed, their fingers digging into the sensitive skin under the feathers. As I twisted and turned, trying to shake the two angels off of me, Wally was preoccupied with the other two.

"R-Run!" I yelled at Jason, whose eyes were wide, surveying the scene before him. "Go! The portal's open!"

He only took a small step back, whimpering quietly. Out of nowhere, Bruce appeared behind Jason, a sharp, silver object under his chin and forced under his neck.

"Don't move," Bruce said, smirking. I froze, letting the other two angels hold my arms and my wings behind my back. They forced me into a kneeling position, much like the one Roy had been held in earlier that day. I looked around and I saw that both Roy and Wally were doing the same thing.

"I know if I cut off your head, you won't die," Bruce said, "But I can kill your body and trap your spirit in it. Then, we'll bring you to the Eradication Hall, simple as that."

Jason' eyes slid shut tightly, like he was ready to accept his fate.

"No!" I choked out, my knees starting to hurt and my wings being sore.

Bruce chuckled darkly, and an chilling shiver ran down my spine. Then, I saw something, gripped tightly in Jason' fist. A small bottle of a pitch black liquid. I bit back a gasp. It was the serum used for Eradications, and they were locked in a chest in the Eradication Hall. How had Jason gotten a hold of that?

"Now, here's the deal. All three of you come with us without complaint, and Jason here, doesn't get hurt. Not before his Eradication anyways, in addition to the three of-" Bruce was cut off.

Jason spread his wings, knocking the angel backwards. Jason whipped around, and twisted Bruce into the ground, shoving his head into the street.

Jason raised the glass bottle, holding it up for Bruce to see.

"You first," he said in a raspy voice, nearly breathless.

Bruce's eyes widened, and I heard the other angels gasp. Even Roy and Wally looked shocked.

"Where'd you get that?" Bruce asked, his voice quavering. "Jason, please, we can talk about this."

"Talk about this?" Jason snarled. "What about ten years ago? When we actually could've talked about it,  _if you hadn't run off and left me to fend for myself!_ "

Bruce gulped down whatever he was going to say, shrinking under Jason.

"Bruce, I looked up to you. I trusted you. But I also trusted my own instincts. So I snagged an Eradication serum while I could and kept it for ten years. And guess what? Looks like it'll finally come to use. I'm not the one who deserves it. You are. I'm not the one ruining these angels. You are."

"Son, please don't," Bruce said, his eyes wide and hopeful. "For old times' sake?"

Jason laughed so loud I thought he was going crazy. "Fucking old time's sake? Are you fucking serious, Bruce? You can fool them, but you can't fool me. I've known you for way too damn long for this. I knew you better than anyone, and you think this is going to work on me. Fuck you, Bruce. And don't call me _son_. You've lost that right long ago."

Jason squeezed the bottle tighter, lifting his hand up. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the serum to fall onto his skin. I saw Jason' hand shaking from how hard he was squeezing the bottle. Usually, I would be afraid of the glass shattering, but the bottle was shatterproof. Jason' knuckles were white with effort.

Finally, he just yelled loudly and let the bottle drop, stumbling away from Bruce, panting hard. I could see it in his eyes. He couldn't do it. Instead, he looked Bruce in the eye and said, "I fucking hate you, Bruce Wayne."

Jason turned on his heels, looked at me, shook his head and started to walk past me. None of the angels stopped him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white, and before I could yell, Jason was lying flat on the floor, Bruce pinning him down. Solid gold bands appeared around Jason' ankles and wrists, locking him tightly to the ground. He winced as Bruce dug his knee into his back.

"I should just keep you here, let all the angels who pass ridicule you until you wish you were dead," Bruce hissed. "But  _for old times' sake,_  I'll spare you the humiliation." He lifted the Eradication serum that Jason had left on the ground. "Say goodnight, demon," Bruce snarled.

"NO!" I screamed lunging forward, breaking out of the grips of the two Head Angels holding me. But I was too late.

Bruce unstopped the bottle and poured the black liquid onto Jason. I heard a sharp hiss of the serum hitting the skin on the back of Jason' neck, and I heard the bloodcurdling scream. I pushed Bruce off of Jason, crouching down beside him. I pulled at the bands, but they didn't budge.

"No, Jay, please no," I said softly, crying. "No, Jason." Tears ran rivers down my cheeks.

But even through the torrent of tears, I could see the life fading from his blue eyes. His screams died into a choked cough, and then he lay limp and unmoving, his eyes now grey and unseeing, the blue completely drained from them. I sobbed harder. My fingers were laced through his black t-shirt, fisting it hard, and hoping I was just dreaming or something.

But everything felt too real. The chilly night, the hard stone of the streets, the wetness on my face, and the dead body I was holding on to. Just as I realized that I was now holding a dead body, it disappeared. Just vanished, without a puff of smoke or anything.

Jason' body was just gone - head, wings, limbs. Not even a single feather remained. The only thing that was left behind were a pair of black skinny jeans and the t-shirt that was now wrinkled from my clenching.

The four gold bands held nothing anymore. Jason was gone. Eradicated - body, spirit, and soul.

I fell back on my back, staring at nothing, tears slowly pouring out of my face, but I was feeling too numb to even cry anymore. I let his shirt go, bringing my shaking hand to my lips and pressing lightly to my fingers. Then I lifted my hand to the sky, silently speaking three words, but I knew that there was no way Jason could hear me.

I heard voices, but I didn't process what they were saying. A few moments passed and I was jerked off of the floor roughly. Someone pushed my down the street, but I didn't see who it was. My eyes were still trained on the sky above me.

Something strange had started happening. I didn't notice it at first, but it started a little after I had thought the words. Coincidence? Possibly. But there was a slight blur to the sky in a spot directly above me. The blur grew bigger and more solid, condensing and becoming something that resembled a cloud.

The cloud also kept expanding, rolling until the entire sky was covered. Soon, it also started glowing. Whoever had been pushing me along had also noticed, and it wasn't long before everyone had noticed the glowing cloud that stretched across the sky.

The cloud grew thicker, and it kept glowing brighter until it was almost blinding to look at. The cloud also started descending, coming lower and lower until it was it touched the street. The Head Angels had started murmuring, one by one falling to their knees in front of the glowing cloud. Even Bruce had shielded his eyes and got on one knee.

A dark silhouette seemed to be appearing from the cloud. It was a man's figure, wearing robes, much like the angels, but there was something about him. Unconsciously, I fell to my knees as well, looking away from the light. The light did not cease, lighting up the entire place. I feared that angels were going to come out and investigate.

Finally, the light fell upon the figure, and I dared look up. My mouth dropped open, probably so far that it hit the ground. I tried to say something, but I couldn't. It wasn't like I had been choked up, but I physically couldn't speak. Standing in front of me, walking slowly towards us, was Jason.

He didn't have the bruises on his skin like earlier; he didn't have the thin cut under his neck. He was wearing pure white clothes, and his every step resonated power. His wings suddenly spread wide, and I heard a loud gasp run through the other angels. His wings were white.

Everything about him was… angelic. It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time. But the thing that truly made me afraid was the anger brimming in his blue eyes, threatening to spill over his cool exterior features.

From behind me, Bruce made a choked sound.

Jason glanced at all of us, pausing slightly on me before speaking. "Why do you look so surprised to see me, Bruce?"

The other angel did not respond.

"You know perfectly well that you couldn't Eradicate me. You still tried, didn't you?" Jason sneered. He laughed, the sound loud and clear. "Well, all it did was restore me to my former glory, something you were too cowardly to do."

"H-How did you-" Bruce managed.

"You know the rules, B," Jason said in a sarcastically sweet voice. "Eradications aren't used for evil. You can't just Eradicate anyone. Only those who deserve it. And guess what? I didn't deserve it. Do you know why? Everything that happened to me was not of my own choice. Had I done it of my own will, the Eradication would have worked. But that isn't who I was. I was willing to give myself for you, Bruce. And you wouldn't return the favor."

Jason' tilted his head thoughtfully, looking at Bruce with a small smile. "You know, if I Eradicated you, it would have worked. But I won't. I'll let you go instead. But you should go on as your true nature, dear friend." Jason gave a flick of his finger, and Bruce disappeared in a crack of light.

There was a loud silence after Bruce disappeared. Jason looked at the rest of us, scoffed and said, "Why are you still kneeling? I'm not God."

Promptly after that, Jason fainted, falling right into my arms.

~

It has been a hectic three days. After Jason crumbled in the streets, all the other Head Angels had let go of us, seeing as Bruce was no longer there. I took this chance to rush Jason to the Infirmary, which was usually empty. The surprise was obvious on the face of the Operative working there.

But she quickly got to work preparing a room for Jason. My arms were shaking by the time I put him down. He himself was not that heavy, but his wings probably weighed more than solid gold.

After Jason was tended to, she came over to where I was sitting by his bedside.

"Is this...?" she trailed off.

I gently took Jason' hand in mine and nodded slowly. "His name's Jason."

"The demon everyone's been talking about?"

"He's not a demon!" I said harshly, squeezing Jason' hand. "He's an angel at heart. And now, he's an angel through and through." I brought his hand to my lips, holding them there.

"What happened to him? I thought Bruce had him in the Eradication Hall?"

She was a bit nosy, but I could understand why. At least she had willingly helped him without question.

"He was. Until I broke him out," I said, watching her expression carefully. She barely flinched at that, only a small twitch of the muscle by her mouth. "We ran into Bruce and the others at the portal, and Jason was attacked. Um, Bruce Eradicated him."

This time, her eyebrows shot up. "Him?" She asked, pointing to Jason.

I nodded. "But he came back... somehow. He said that there were certain rules to Eradication and you can't just Eradicate anyone. Only those who deserve it."

"So what happened to Bruce?"

"Jason turned him into a demon."

"An actual demon?"

"Yeah."

"So he's... gone?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause as the information sank in. The Operative cleared her throat. "Well then. I don't want to speak ill of him, but good riddance."

I quirked an eyebrow. "You didn't like him either?"

She shook her head. "He's a tyrant. I've been here longer than he's been here, so I still remember when he first arrive. Manipulative little angel. He had a way with words, and no one could tell if he was lying or not. But angels don’t lie, so of course, he worked his way up easily. And he even took some kid under his care. Jason, you said his name was?"

I nodded.

"He slowly wormed his way to the top, and while most angels thought Bruce was all innocence and purity, a few of us could see right through him. You know, Jason came to me several times because he got hurt from things Bruce had him do. But Jason was fixed on the fact that his… guardian was just a bit misled at times. Until one day, he didn't come back. Only Bruce returned."

There was another pregnant silence. The Operative clapped her hands together lightly. "Well, I'll leave you two alone than. I don't know if he will wake up anytime soon, since I've never dealt with this before."

She walked quietly out of the room and closed the door behind her.

That was three days ago.

Three days later, after the news of Bruce being banished as a demon spread throughout Heaven, everyone was trying to find a new Head Angel to take his place. His assistants Ed and Mitch should have been able to take the spot, but none of the Head Angels could even open the door to the Head Angel office. It had sent a panic through the streets, making angels worry. Even I had tried to open the door to no avail.

In the meantime, the other Head Angels had been discussing Jason. What to do with him, if he were to wake up? They knew that he couldn't be Eradicated anymore, but at the same time, he had done some wrong things. So a trial was set for a week after whenever Jason was to wake up.

I went to visit him every day. The female Operative working in the Infirmary was named Barbara, and she was actually a really sweet girl. Jason was never left alone. Barbara told stories to him on a daily basis when I couldn't be there. But I made sure to spend all my nights with him by his bedside.

That night, I was sitting beside Jason, holding his hand as usual. Barbara had decided to keep my company, sitting beside me and talking in an enthusiastic voice. That's when I felt the twitch.

It was very faint, but I had felt it. Jason' hand shook, the slightest bit. I immediately stopped talking to Barbara, cutting her off with a gasp.

"I think he's coming to," I said, standing up, knocking my chair over.

Barbara also stood, but with much more poise and calmness. I took Jason' other hand as well, peering down at him intently.

"Jay, can you hear me?" I asked softly. "Please wake up. Jay?"

Another hand twitch.

"He can hear me!" I told Barbara excitedly. "Jason?"

A soft groan this time, and soon, his eyelids started fluttering. There was a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes shot open, staring at the ceiling. "Dickie?" he asked, his voice raspy and cracking.

"I'm here, I'm here," I said, kissing his forehead three times.

"What's going on? I feel like I've been lying here for years. Everything kind of hurts."

"Oh, Jay. You've been here for a few days only. I'm so glad you woke up."

He turned his head to look at me. "Was I asleep?"

"I think so, I'm not sure. Barbara's been watching over you," I said.

Jason peered behind me, finally noticing her. "Babs!"

"Hi," she said with a small smile. "About time you woke up. Your angel was getting worried."

Jason' eyes flickered back to me, and he smiled widely. He started to sit up slowly. I put a hand behind his back, minding his wings. A few feathers were ruffled, so I smoothed them down. Jason followed the movement of my hand with his eyes.

"They're white," he said, awe in his voice. He looked up at me again. "Wait, what happened?"

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head slowly, so I sat back down, and explained the last three days to him. When I was done, Jason looked shocked. His eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly agape.

"So- So I'm an...?"

"Angel."

"Like you."

I smiled. "I guess so." Then I frowned. "But they're still going to trial you."

Jason smiled weakly. "It's okay. I kind of deserve it. Besides, if they find me innocent, I can stay here with you, yeah?"

I swallowed. "It's better than being Eradicated."

"I can't be Eradicated, Dickie. Not unless I do something bad again, of my own will this time."

The next morning, Jason was ready to get out of the Infirmary. Barbara fussed around him, asking about how he was feeling, and I could tell Jason was getting agitated.

"Hey, Babs, I think he's fine," I said after a few minutes of watching her fuss. "We should also get going. The trial is starting in an hour and I want to talk to Jason before his trial."

Barbara finally left him alone. "Alright. But the moment you're feeling anything make sure you come back here, no matter what, okay?"

Jason nodded his head. "Understood."

~

I wasn't allowed to attend the trial. The other Head Angels had decided that Wally and I were the only angels that had to wait outside, deeming us as a distraction for the trial. So Roy and Jason went into the Holy Courtroom alone, facing the rest of the angelical population.

Hours seemed to ticked by, and through the soundproof glass, I could not see what was happening. At times, Jason looked very nervous and on the verge of tears. At other times, he looked like he was stubbornly standing for something. Finally, it was time for the Head Angels to decide. They left the courtroom, and I swear it was the most anxious ten minutes of my life, on Earth and in Heaven.

At last, the Head Angels delivered their sentence. I couldn't bear to look. So I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned my head against the glass. When the doors to the courtroom opened, I looked up, nearly breaking my neck in the process. All the other angels filed out, talking to each other, but I was looking for someone specific.

* * *

**Ah, 'tis a pity this was never finished. It seriously could have been one of my longest one-shots ever. I wrote this... maybe three years ago, with different characters, but I just changed the names to post it on here. I did a bit of editing (quite a lot) to make this somewhat presentable because my writing back then was just a bit above horrible. There's practically no plot line, everything is kind of rushed, it's pretty unbelievable. In other words, not going to finish, ever. But I do love angel/demon AUs, so I may write one another day. On the other hand, I might not, since I already wrote a demon AU.**

**(THIS IS TO MAKE UP FOR MY LACK OF UPDATES THIS WEEK, SORRY!)**

**~15,205 words**


	16. Dear Grayson, Don't Be A Dick

**Dick/Damian**

**In which Damian write "love letters" to Dick, and Dick has no idea who keeps sending him threatening notes.**

* * *

 

_Dear Grayson,_

_In case you failed to get it through your thick skull, I will tell you once, and once only._

_You are MY boyfriend. You are TAKEN. By ME._

_So stop taking those girls’ numbers, flirting, or even smiling at them. I don’t care if you actually use them or not, they need to find their own man and keep their hands off mine. I don’t like it._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Significant Other_

Dick stared down at the note in his hand, blinking in confusion. He looked up and around the hall, which was sparsely occupied. His locker happened to be on the far side of the school, where most of the empty classrooms were. Few people were standing around, and they were mostly using their lockers.

Dick looked down at the note again.

It was yet another love letter, if it could even be called that, from, apparently, Dick’s boyfriend. Dick had no idea who that was supposed to be though. Dick had been receiving such notes a couple times a week, every week, for the past month.

Dick sighed heavily, tucking the note into his economics textbook and shouldered his backpack. He shut his locker door and started towards his next class.

The letters… were interesting. They did not seem to be love letters, since it was far from romantic, bordering on threatening, actually.

Dick’s apparent “boyfriend” was pretty possessive, though Dick had never met him. At first, Dick was really curious as to who this person was. He asked around, but no one seemed to know who it could be. No one recognized the handwriting either. After a couple weeks, Dick gave up and just let the person send him notes.

Dick read them, mostly because he found them a bit amusing, and he may have been the tiniest bit flattered, but mostly because he was amused.

Dick slumped down in the back of the class next to his friend. He let his textbook thump onto the desk, and he sighed heavily.

“D’you get another note?” Jason asked, chewing on the end of his pencil.

Dick grimaced. He wanted to smack the pencil out of Jason’s mouth because it was a disgusting habit, but Jason had been trying to quit smoking, so he adopted eraser chewing in its place, which was healthier, so Dick did not bother him about it. “How did you know?” Dick groaned. “It isn’t you, is it?”

Jason scoffed. “You ask me that every week,” he said. “I’ve read the notes. First, it’s not my handwriting. Second, your boyfriend is an idiot. He has no idea how to court someone.”

“Oh, right,” Dick said with an eye roll. “You’d write romantic prose.”

“Of course I would,” Jason said, releasing the pencil.

“Also,” Dick said. “Why do you keep insisting it’s a guy writing these notes to me? You’ve been saying it so much, I started unconsciously saying it too.”

“It’s obvious,” Jason said. “No girl at this school is that blunt and rough with words. If one of them were, you’d have found her already. Not to mention, he calls you ‘Grayson’. Which girl calls you Grayson?”

Dick pouted. “I guess, but I just-” He let out a frustrated sound.

“Hey, I thought you said you were over this thing,” Jason said.

“I _am_ ,” Dick assured. “You’re the one who brought it up!”

~

_Dear Grayson,_

_I know you’ve been asking around to see who I was. And I heard that it was really frustrating you._

_But I think if you really wanted to find out, you could. But seeing that you haven’t yet, it only  shows that you’re not as invested in this relationship as I am._

* * *

**It's cute, but I don't know... it's a bit cliche and a bit overdone, I guess. Maybe that's why I lost interest. Don't think I'll finish, sorry.**

**~678**


	17. Night of Vengeance

**Gen (Thomas Wayne - Batman/Martha Wayne - Joker, kinda)**

**In which Bruce Wayne is thrown into an alternate universe, where Thomas Wayne is Batman, Martha Wayne is Joker, and Bruce Wayne is supposed to dead. But he is reunited with his parents, and they sit down for a long overdue family meeting.**

**IN WHICH FLASHPOINT EVENTS NEVER HAPPENED (Yet, or never will)**

* * *

 The minute Bruce opened his eyes, he knew.

Barry screwed up again.

He got to his feet, gravel crunching under his boots, and he looked around. It was nighttime, and at a glance, the city could have been any city.

But Bruce could feel it in his bones. It was Gotham. Just not the right Gotham.

Bruce approached the edge of the building, looking out over the city. The sounds of busy traffic floated up from far below. Even at night, Gotham was busy.

Bruce looked in the distance, frowning when he saw a bright neon sign of blinking lights that read, _Wayne Casino._ How peculiar. Bruce never thought of opening a casino before. They were magnets for crime.

Maybe it was the best place to start his investigation of this world, and how to get the hell out of it.

He reached into his belt and pulled out the grappling gun. He swung silently across rooftops, his eyes scouring the streets below for any sign of what universe he could be in.

As he passed Crime Alley, Bruce heard sounds of soft crying. He paused a moment before heading in that direction instead. Bruce found himself crouching on the roof of the old theater.

Then, he saw it.

A young girl, backed up against the wall of the crumbling building, a gag stuffed in her mouth, and her hands and feet tied up as well. She was bleeding from a head wound.

“Crying won’t do you much good, darling,” giggled the figure standing above the girl. The blade of a knife glinted briefly in the moonlight. “Don’t you see? Crying doesn’t help at all. It doesn’t bring back the dead, it doesn’t make you happy again, so why do you cry? You should _laugh_. Create your _own_ happiness!” Loud cackling filled the air.

Bruce crept closer, his eyes never leaving the figure, who he could now see was wearing a purple suit, and had long, wavy green hair. Usually, Bruce would not hesitate to jump in, especially when dealing with the Joker, but something felt off. He waited.

“Now,” Joker said, twirling the knife yet again. “How do you prefer to do this? I have this special little pill that can make you laugh, laugh, and keep on laughing, _or_ I have this handy little tool here that can make you smile, like me!”

The girl cried harder, shaking and terrified.

“If you don’t choose, I’ll choose for you,” Joker sang, then laughed. “Who am I kidding? I’m going to choose for you anyway! And I choose… _both_.”

Joker ripped the gag from the girl’s mouth and raised the knife. Screaming sobs filled the night. “Say _ahhh_ ,” Joker giggled.

Bruce jumped down behind Joker. He grabbed the hand with the knife, and whipped him around, only to be faced with a face even more feminine than usual, and oddly familiar. Without even glancing down at Joker’s chest, Bruce knew this Joker was a _she_.

Joker growled, looking Bruce up and down. “Who are _you_?” she snarled, twisting her hand, but unable to break Bruce’s strong grip. “You’re not Batman!”

“Yes, I am,” Bruce said, holding on tighter, forcing Joker to drop her knife. He kicked the knife over to the bound girl. “Untie yourself and get out of here,” he told her.

He restrained Joker until the girl ran out of the alleyway, still screaming and sobbing.

“Liar!” Joker screamed, kicking at him hard. “I’ll kill you! I’ll rip your head off for trying to impersonate Batman!” Bruce pushed her up against the wall, still holding her hands above her head. Joker glared at him. “You’re not him,” she panted. “Who are you?” Her voice went surprisingly soft, and it was alarmingly familiar.

_“We can watch anything?”_

_“Sure, sweetie. Anything you want.”_

Bruce let go in shock. Joker punched him in the face. Bruce stumbled back as Joker flew at him with uncontrollable rage. She whipped another knife out of her suit and tried to stab him, but Bruce managed to get out of the way in time. He could not believe it, but even in the frenzy of Joker trying to attack him, he _recognized_ that face, those eyes, and the hands that used to hold him close, that were now wielding a knife with astonishing skill and agility.

“Mom…?” Bruce breathed out almost silently.

Joker froze. Then, she seemed to grow angrier. She started laughing. “Is this funny to you?” she asked. “Do you find this amusing? Because let me tell you something, _dear_ , I don’t like this joke!” She kept laughing, but it sounded forced. Instead, her body was shaking with rage. “Tell me, Mr. Fake Batman, do you have kids? Because I will find them. And I will gut them. And I will hang their bodies outside your house for your entire street to see,” she hissed. She pointed the knife at his face, her trembling hand unable to hold it still.

Bruce gently grabbed her wrist. “No,” he said softly. “Mom… it’s me.” He reached up with his other hand and pulled off the cowl.

Joker stared at him blankly for a full five seconds. Then, her eyes widened. Her hand went slack around the knife, and it clattered to the ground. But she did not stop trembling. She collapsed to the floor.

“Mom?”

“No…” she said in a hushed whisper. “You’re not real. You’re _not_ real. You’re dead. You’re dead!” she yelled in his face. “Go away! I know you’re not real!”

“I’m real,” Bruce said, taking her hand and touching his own face with it. “See? I’m real. You have to believe me. I’m not- I’m not from this world. This isn’t my world, Mom. But I’m very, very real.”

She stared up at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She traced her hand down the side of his face, her touch as light as a feather.

“You look just like your father,” she whispered. Then, she gasped. “Your father.” She scrambled to her feet, not letting go of Bruce’s hand.

“Mom, what is it?” Bruce asked, standing up as well.

“He’ll be here soon,” she said, spitting the words. “We have to go.”

“What do you mean he’ll be here? Don’t you- Don’t you want to see him?”

She laughed bitterly. “Not tonight.”

“But-”

“He’ll take you away from me, I just know it,” she muttered. “We have to go.”

Bruce let his mother drag him through the darkness, nearly having to run to keep up with her strides. She also kept looking up at the skies, as if waiting for someone to drop down on them. Finally, she pulled him through a boarded up building and switched on the lights inside.

The inside of the building did not look like much. An old, stained couch, an armchair with the stuffing ripped out of one arm, a table with one leg shorter than the other three, and several duffle bags of weapons and money.

“Is this… where you’re staying?” Bruce asked.

“No,” Martha said. “It’s just the nearest safe house.” She looked around almost nervously. “Sit,” she said. “I, uh, I would put on tea or something if we were in one of my other safe houses, but I don’t really have anything here.”

Bruce did not make any move to sit down.

Martha turned towards him. In the light, she looked different. It could also be her expression. Her eyes were wide, and her face solemn. Bruce noticed that there were rugged scars on either side of her mouth.

“You’re really real?” she asked.

Bruce nodded.

She rushed forward and hugged him. She was not very tall, her head only coming up a little over his shoulder. She started sobbing silently into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” she cried.

**< MISCELLANEOUS  STORY POINTS> **

“You’re not going, are you?” Martha asked urgently, immediately grabbing Bruce’s arm. “You can’t- You can’t go yet!”

“Martha, the boy has his own world to get back to,” Thomas growled lowly. “We can’t keep him here, no matter how much we want to.”

“No,” Martha said, her bottom lip starting to tremble again. “Bruce, don’t- don’t go yet!”

Bruce glanced over at his father briefly. “Mom,” he said. “I have to go. I _need_ to get back to my Gotham. She can’t protect herself.”

Martha sniffled. “Your Gotham?”

“Yeah.”

She slowly slid down to sit on her bed, her head hung low. “But will you ever be back?”

Bruce swallowed hard. “No,” he admitted. “I won’t.”

She let out a loud sob. Thomas sat behind her, a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be alright, right, son?” Thomas asked.

Bruce nodded.

Thomas grunted his approval. “See? He’ll be fine. If he grew up without us fine, he can keep living fine.”

“Like this?” Martha scoffed, gesturing to Bruce’s costume. “Do _you_ like the way you live, Thomas?” she asked. “I can’t imagine anyone liking that.” She gave Bruce a sad look. “You never did tell me how you became Batman.”

“The same way as Dad, I guess,” Bruce said.

Martha’s eyes became sympathetic. “Did you have a kid too? A wife?”

Bruce blinked twice. “Oh, no, not like that.” He laughed weakly and sat down next to Martha. “Actually, it was because of that same night in the alley,” he said. “Because of my parents’ deaths.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Martha said softly. “You- I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Bruce said. “It’s… really not so bad.”

“Really?” Martha asked.

“Well, it’s Gotham. But we make it work.”

“Who’s we?” Martha asked.

Bruce’s smile grew a bit. “Me, my friends, my family, Alfred.” Then, he paused a brief moment and gave it a little more thought. “Heh, maybe even the criminals in that damned city. It’s a chaotic balance. Gotham has her good days, she has her bad.”

Martha reached out and grabbed Bruce’s hand. She leaned back into Thomas’ chest with a  soft sigh. “Bruce,” she said quietly, her eyes closing. “Tell me about your Gotham. Tell me… tell me everything.”

“Everything?”

“Mhm, from the beginning until now. I want to listen to your life before you go. I want to know everything I missed.”

Bruce was silent a beat. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ll tell you a bit. My Gotham City… she’s not so different from this one, but there are some major things that are different. Gotham has her Batman, she has her Joker, she has her Robins.”

“Robins?” Martha asked.

“Oh, they’re like Batman’s sidekick. My kids, actually. Adopted, most of them.”

Martha hummed in acknowledgement. “And… your Joker? She _isn’t_ your wife, right? Do you have a wife, Bruce?”

“No, no, Joker is _not_ my wife, nor do I have one. Joker is… he’s interesting.”

“Your Joker is a man?” Thomas asked. He frowned. “You’re not married to him, are you?”

Bruce shook his head quickly. “No, sir,” he promised. “Joker was… in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wasn’t fast enough to save him and he fell into a vat of chemicals, survived, and came out insane and seeking revenge or something.”

“Good,” Thomas grunted. “Word of advice, _don’t_ marry your worst enemy.”

Martha’s eyebrows only twitched slightly in annoyance. “Keep going, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled slightly at their interactions. It certainly was not that of the parents he remembered growing up with, but it was considerably better than his own relationship with Joker.

Bruce continued telling his mother about his life. Usually, he found it extremely difficult to express anything about himself, but here, he easily spilled every secret he ever had.

When Bruce got to Jason’s death and resurrection, Martha had fallen asleep in Thomas’ arms.

* * *

**I actually really love this idea because all other stories with Bruce and his parents are when he's younger or when they never died. I really want him to meet them like this, where they're not the perfect people he remembers. But alas, I probably won't finish this. This is as much as I thought out anyway, and there isn't really a plot. It's more relationship building and character development, so. Hope you enjoyed!**

**~1,952k**


	18. Fatherhood

**Dick/Jason**

**In which Jason and Dick adopt a baby girl together, and raising a child really isn't as easy as it seems. With special guests: Uncle Dee-Dee and Grandpa B.**

* * *

  **6 MONTHS**

“ _Oh_ , she’s so small,” Jason said in a hushed voice, not wanting to wake the baby. “Are you sure it’s okay to hold her?”

The nurse nodded, smiling. “Of course. It’s perfectly safe.” Jason started reaching for the baby girl, sleeping soundly. “Just don’t drop her.” He quickly retracted his hands.

Dick laughed. He calmly took the baby from the nurse. “Look, it’s perfectly fine, Jay.” He cooed down at the pink bundle, feeling his heart fill with warmth at the idea that this was _his_ baby girl in his arms. As soon as the last papers are finalized, that is. “She’s so beautiful.”

The nurse hummed in agreement. She looked between the three men standing in the room. “So,” she said to Dick. “Which one is your husband again?”

Dick did not look up from the baby girl. “Oh, the angry looking one.”

The nurse glanced at both men, who simultaneously scowled at Dick.

“Uhh…” She decided to just choose one, hoping she was right. “Just sign here and she’s yours,” she said, handing the clipboard to the one seated on the chair next to Dick.

The man’s eyes narrowed further. “Not my baby,” he grunted. He nodded at the _other_ man standing next to the nurse. She went red, quickly handing the clipboard over.

“Sorry,” she said.

Jason glared at Damian, took the clipboard away and quickly signed his name.

The nurse tried smiling. “Right, congratulations! What are you planning to name her?”

“We were thinking Kayla,” Jason said, his voice softening to something of Dick’s level. “Kayla Todd.”

“Grayson.”

“Wayne.”

The nurse’s eyes flitted between the three men. They all looked at each other. The nurse cleared her throat quickly, hoping to break the tension that quickly rose in the room.

“May I suggest…”

~

**THREE YEARS**

“KAYLA TODD GRAYSON WAYNE!” Jason yelled. “Get your soapy butt right back here, young lady!” He scrambled to his feet and chased after his naked daughter, who was covered in bubbles and was currently headed for the back door.

Jason wiped his soapy hands on his jeans as he chased his daughter down the stairs and into the kitchen, avoiding a wide variety of toys. “Hah!” he said. “I’ve got you now!” He locked the back door just as his daughter reached it. He frowned down at her with faux disappointment. “Kayla-”

She looked up at him with her bright blue eyes and laughed. Then, she crawled through the doggy door.

“KAYLA!” Jason yelled in surprise, fumbling with unlocking the door again with his wet hands. He managed to pull the door open, and chased his daughter.

Three-year-old Kayla toddled away from her dad and towards her other dad, who was currently patting in the last of the geraniums into the garden.

Dick turned when he heard Kayla’s squeals. His eyes widened. A moment later, he got an armful of soapy toddler. Dick’s confused eyes met Jason’s from across the backyard. Dick made sure not to touch Kayla with his dirty gloves. “KK, baby,” he said. “What are you doing out here?”

“Daddy!” she giggled.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the bath?” he asked sternly. “You’re covered in bubbles!”

“But I _did_!” Kayla insisted, hanging onto his neck tighter. “Now I’m done!”

Dick laughed softly, shucking his gloves away. He stood, taking his daughter with him, back towards the house. “Okay, baby.” He found Jason standing on the porch waiting for them. “Can’t keep her in the bath for even ten minutes, Jay?” he teased.

“She’s like an eel!” Jason protested. “I turn for _one_ second to get the rubber duckie she asked for, and I turn back and she’s gone!”

Dick laughed, smoothing back the dripping hair and smiled at Kayla. “My little escape artist.” Jason huffed and rolled his eyes. Dick leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, officer,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got your back.”

Dick went back into the house, laughing loudly at Jason’s protest of, _“Dick_! Not in front of Kayla!”

“Daddy!” Kayla said loudly. “Can I have a cookies?”

“Sure thing, honey,” Dick said, walking out of the kitchen. “Cookies are in the bathroom.”

“Really?” Kayla gasped.

“Mhm,” Dick said, starting back up the stairs. He entered the bathroom, starting towards the baby bathtub on the floor. Kayla connected the dots.

She screamed and started kicking. “No, Daddy!” she laughed. “No more bath! Daddy already gave me a bath!”

Dick plopped her right back amongst the bubbles. “But you’re all dirty again!” he said. “Don’t you want to be clean and smell good?”

“No!” she said, splashing the soapy water around. “I like being dirty!”

Dick grimaced slightly when Kayla wiped bubbles into his hair. “Yes,” he said slowly. “But your Uncle Damian doesn’t like you dirty.”

Kayla gasped loudly. “Uncle Dee-Dee’s coming?!”

“Yup,” Dick said. “And Grandpa B.”

She clapped her hands excitedly. “Okay, okay! Bath, Daddy! Go fast!”

When Dick finally, finally got Kayla cleaned and dressed, the entire front of his t-shirt was soaked and the entire floor of the bathroom was flooded. Dick dumped the water out of the small bathtub and started mopping up the mess.

“I’ll take over,” Jason said from behind him. Jason had changed into another shirt as well, and he gave Dick a sympathetic smile. “You take a shower.”

Dick stood and gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks,” he said. He gave Jason a quick kiss on the cheek before exiting. “Don’t forget to make the lemonade!”

~

“UNCLE DEE-DEE!” Kayla screamed at the top of her lungs, running out of the house with her sparkly pink flip-flops slapping the concrete loudly.

She latched onto Damian’s leg as soon as he got out of the car. “Hello, Kayla,” Damian said, reaching down and giving the girl’s hair a ruffle. “You shouldn’t run in flip flops, you know. It’s not safe.” He glared up at the front porch, where Jason and Dick were standing. Dick waved excitedly. “Your fathers’ have bad judgement.

“Up, Uncle Dee-Dee!” Kayla demanded, ignoring his gentle reprimands.

Damian sighed and reached down and picked Kayla up, holding her out at arms’ length to look at her closely. After a moment, he pulled her in rest on his hip. “Had I not been there for the adoption, I would have mistaken you for your father’s spawn, no doubt. Just as needy as Grayson.”

“Damian, be nice.”

Damian glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Bruce. “I’m _joking_ ,” he deadpanned.

Bruce grunted.

“Grandpa B! Grandpa B!” Kayla said loudly, kicking Damian in the stomach in her excitement, right in a rather large bruise he got a few nights ago. “Look! I’m as tall as you now!”

Bruce gave his granddaughter a gentle smile. “Someday.” He started up the driveway towards the house.

Damian snorted and followed. Under his breathe, he mimicked, “’ _Damian, be nice. Damian, don’t be a hypocrite_.’” He looked at Kayla again. “I’m the only one you like, right?”

Kayla just giggled at him. “Uncle Dee-Dee, you look funny when your eyes cross like that!”

Damian sighed. “Definitely Grayson’s child.”

~

**5 YEARS**

“Daddy, Daddy!” Kayla said, coming pounding into the house with her overly large backpack jumping up and down on her back with each step. “Look what I made in school today!”

Jason peered at Kayla over the top of his glasses. “What is it, darling?”

She pulled a slightly crumpled piece of orange construction paper from her My Little Pony backpack. “Look!”

On it, written in crooked letters, with a nearly dry black marker, were the words: _Hapy Faters Day!_

Jason held back a laugh. “Oh!” he said, nodding slowly, pressing his lips together tightly. “Is it for me?”

Kayla laughed. “It’s for you _and_ Daddy!”

Jason looked at the drawing under the words. “And why are there so many people drawn on here?” he asked.

Kayla sighed and stomped her foot. “ _Because_!” she said.

“Hey, don’t use that tone with me,” Jason warned.

Kayla climbed up onto his lap and held the paper up again. “See, here’s Daddy,” she pointed to the stick figure with the blue shirt and no pants and a huge smile. “Here’s Grandpa B.” The stick figure with a big frowny face and a cane, even though Bruce did not need a cane at all. “Uncle Dami.” She pointed to the stick figure with huge green circles for eyes. “Uncle Tim Tim.” She pointed to the next stick figure with hair going down to floor. “Auntie Babbra.” The stick figure floating in the air.

“Why is she flying?” Jason asked softly, putting his arm around Kayla’s waist.

“Because she can’t walk,” Kayla said like it was obvious. Jason held her tighter. Kayla continued. “Auntie Cass.” The one with a small smile and short black hair. “Auntie Selina and Auntie Katie.” They looked exactly the same, but one had cat ears. “And Fifi!” She pointed to the fat oval with four stubby sticks coming out of it.

Jason laughed. “Where am I?” he asked.

Kayla flipped the paper over. “I ran out of space so I put you on the back,” she said seriously. Jason looked at the picture on the backside. It was a stick figure with a red shirt and a ridiculously large smile like Dick’s, holding the stick hand of a smaller figure, who wore a pink dress and a big bow in her hair.

“See?” Kayla said, pointing. Above it, was written: _Daddy and Kayla._

Jason let out a choked laugh, hugging Kayla tightly again. He hid his face in her shoulder.

Kayla giggled. “Daddy! Stop! Your beard is spiky!”

Jason let her go. She put the paper in his lap and ran back upstairs with her backpack jumping after her.

A few moments later, Dick came in.

“Hey,” Dick said, spotting Jason sitting by himself on the couch. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a touch of concern. He sat down next to Jason.

Jason shook his head, smiling. “Nothing,” he said. He reached up under his glasses and wiped his eyes. “Everything’s perfect.”

Dick spotted the orange paper on his lap. He smiled. “Oh, that? Yeah, she showed it to me the moment she saw me when I went to go pick her up from kindergarten today.”

Jason took a shaky breath, picking up the paper. He flipped it over and looked at the array of stick figures and the fat dog which was supposed to be their Great Dane, Fifi. Fifi was a year old, sired by Damian’s Titus, a purebred alpha male, named by Kayla.

He flipped it again, looking at the two figures on the other side.

“I never thought I’d be the sentimental parent,” Jason said softly. “But I want to frame this somewhere.”

Dick laughed softly and leaned his head on Jason’s shoulder. “She’ll hate you for it in ten years,” he said.

Jason smiled at the two stick figures who smiled back with their crooked smiles. “Nah. I’ll just show her this.”

“I’m sure we have an old picture frame somewhere,” Dick said. He stood. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Jason said, his blue eyes still bright behind his glasses. “Ribs still a bit sore, but I think I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Dick smiled. “Alright,” he said, leaning down to give Jason a quick kiss. “I’m going to make Kayla a snack.” He started away to the kitchen. “And find a chance to shave!” he called after him. “Your stubble hurts!”

~

**10 YEARS**

“Where’s Daddy?” Kayla asked, jumping onto her fathers’ bed.

Dick gave her a tired smile. “He’s working late tonight, sweetie.”

Kayla wrinkled her nose. “Again? How much work does a freelance poet do?”

“He’s also an assistant teacher at Gotham University, remember?”

“Part-time,” Kayla countered. “And daytime.”

Dick smiled and closed his book. “Why’re you looking for him?”

“Hm? Oh, just wanted to ask him about some questions about my homework,” she said casually.

“You can ask me too,” Dick said.

Kayla shrugged. “Daddy told me not to bother you too much this week.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up. “He did?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He said you got hurt at work and should stay in bed for a while and rest.” She patted his leg gently. “He told me to tell you to get some sleep.”

Dick snorted. “So now you two are conferring behind me back?”

Kayla smiled. “Maybe.” She scooted off the bed. “Oh well. My homework’s not due tomorrow anyway, so I’ll just ask him when he gets back.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t going to ask him about homework, were you?” Dick asked slowly.

Kayla’s eyes widened innocently. “Yes, I was!”

“Kayla…”

She smiled shyly. “And maybe hot cocoa…”

Dick huffed, a smile of his own growing on his face. “Kayla! You know the rule! No sugar two hours before bedtime!”

“But Daddy said they’re more _guidelines_!”

“That insufferable man!” Dick said, shaking his head. “I’m going to have a talk with him when he gets back tonight. And _no_ , no cocoa.”

“But-”

“No, Kayla. Now go finish your homework, brush your teeth, and go to bed,” he ordered. “You have school tomorrow.”

Kayla threw her hands up exaggeratedly. “Okay, _fine_ , meanie.”

Dick listened to her footsteps disappear into her room. He picked up his book again. Half an hour later, he heard the water in her bathroom running as Kayla brushed her teeth, then went to bed. Dick stayed up another half an hour before flicking off the light and going to bed himself.

Jason would not be back until around two in the morning. He would not have wanted Dick to wait up. And Dick was getting a bit old to be able to stay up that long without nodding off anymore.

~

It was a little past one o’clock when Kayla woke up, her throat horribly dry. She debated whether or not to go all the way downstairs for a sip of water. She would have to leave her warm bed. And the tiled floors of the kitchen were cold.

Finally, her parched throat won, so she slipped out of bed and from her room. She walked softly past her parents’ room, going down into the kitchen.

In the darkness, she grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and padded over to the fridge. She squinted as the bright blue light of the words on the water dispenser turned on. She stuck her glass under the dispenser and yawned while the cup filled.

Kayla brought the glass to her lips and drank deeply, feeling much better. She turned around and froze.

“Hey, little girl.” Kayla jolted, dropping her glass onto the ground. It shattered.

“Ooh, bad girlie,” the intruder said, laughing softly. “Bad, bad girlie. What’s Daddy going to say?”

Kayla did not respond. She took a tentative step backwards, her back hitting the fridge door and her foot stepping on a shard of glass. She winced, but did not move.

The intruder stepped forward, and Kayla squinted to see who it was.

It was someone Kayla did not know. The man wore a dark colored suit and a green tie that matched his hair.

The man leaned in really close, staring at Kayla. Kayla turned her face away uncomfortably.

“Hm,” the man said. “Interesting.” He leaned away again.

Kayla opened her mouth to yell for Dick. But before she could get a single sound out, there was a gun pointed at her face.

“Ah, ah, ah, sugar plum,” the man said. “Can’t have you alerting the neighbors. Especially since I went through all this trouble to come here _especially_ to see you.”

Kayla shut her mouth, eyeing the gun. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking only slightly.

“You don’t know _me_?” the man asked with an offended gasp. “What have your fathers been _teaching_ you? Nothing useful, obviously.”

Kayla frowned. “My dads are-”

“Shh,” the man cut her off, pressing the barrel of the gun to her forehead. “No more talking. Just stand there while I decide what to do next. Shh…”  The scary man reached forward and put a pale hand on her head, feeling her tousled hair. Kayla resisted the urge to shy away. She did not like strangers touching her hair.

Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. She had no idea what to do. She did not want to die, and Jason would not be home for another hour.

“Eeny meeny miny moe…” the man sang under his breath.

Just then, there was a soft shuffling at the entrance to the kitchen. “Kayla…?” a tired voice asked. “’s that you, honey?”

The lights flickered on.

Dick stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, with a worn blue bathrobe half pulled around him. He immediately stiffened when he saw the scene in front of him.

Kayla could now see that the intruder wore dark purple and had obnoxiously green hair. His skin was chalk white. And yup, that was a gun pointed at her face.

“Daddy said no guns in the house,” she said softly, feeling a bit more confident now that Dick was there too.

The man hissed when the lights came on, and his attention turned to Dick. “I thought all the birdies went out to play tonight. Guess not,” he snarled.

“That’s my daughter,” Dick said slowly, his voice deathly even.

“Yes, I figured,” Joker drawled. “It would be _kinda_ weird if you just kept another girl in your house unless you had some weird adoption addiction like Bats-”

“That’s my _daughter_ ,” Dick said again, stepping forward.

Joker raised an eyebrow. “I _heard_ you the _first_ time, Mr. Grayson,” Joker said. “I’m _old_ , but I’m not hard of _hearing_. Now if you’ll stop interrupting me, I was _saying_ something.” He waved the gun as an emphasis.

It made Dick see red. He was across the floor in two strides, and he had the sash of his bathrobe wrapped around Joker’s neck, pulling him down onto the floor.

Kayla screamed as Joker’s elbow knocked into her head. Dick grunted as he landed on the ground that was scattered with glass, his leg straining and protesting with pain.

“Kayla! Go- Go call your father!”

Joker gave a raspy laugh. “You’re _misunderstanding_ this, little birdie! I wasn’t going to _hurt_ her!”

Dick ignored him, instead managing to pull himself up a bit and slammed Joker’s face into the tiles, hard. Blood spurt across the glossy floor. He did it again, and again, and again. Joker kept laughing.

A minute later, Dick felt himself being pulled away. He let out a strangled scream, trying to fight off the hands pulling him away. He wanted to keep slamming Joker’s face into the ground until there was nothing left of the haunting smile.

“You’re going to kill him, Dickie,” Jason’s breathy whisper said in his ear. He took Dick’s shaking and bloody hands in his own, holding them tightly. Jason saw Kayla peeking at them from around the corner. “Go to your bedroom, KK, baby,” he said softly. “I’ll deal with this, okay?”

After Kayla left, Dick spoke. “I wanted to,” he whispered, his eyes still trained on the unconscious Joker, lying in a pool of blood and glass.

“I know, I know,” Jason said, burying his face into Dick’s shoulder. “Fuck, I know. I want to, too. But Kayla.”

Dick took three shaky, deep breaths. “Kayla,” he repeated. He closed his eyes and just listened to Jason’s heartbeat for a few moments. “Kayla.”

“How’d he get in?” Jason asked.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Dick said. “I was asleep. I heard Kayla leave her bedroom and go downstairs,” he said slowly. “I heard her get water, so I was about to head back to sleep. But then I heard glass break. I waited another few seconds and she did not make any more noise afterwards. So I got nervous and got up to check on her.” He shivered. “Jason, he- he had a _gun_ pointed to her face.”

Jason’s arms tightened around him. “Don’t- Don’t tell me more,” Jason said with a strained voice. “I don’t have as much control as you do.”

Dick finally tightened his hands around Jason’s. “What now?”

“B’s coming,” Jason said. “Maybe he’ll finally do something about the clown.”

Dick shivered, and for the first time, he agreed. “I really hope so.”

~

“Daddy,” Kayla asked softly. “Who was that man?” She was lying between Dick and Jason, in their bed, an hour later. Bruce had shown up, gotten Joker out of there and cleaned up the mess while Dick and Jason rushed back upstairs to their daughter.

Dick had an arm around her, pulling her head onto his chest. “Nobody, honey,” he said.

“You knew him, didn’t you?” Kayla asked. “You, too?” she asked, looking up at Jason.

Both of them were silent for a long time. “Yes, we knew him,” Jason finally said. “He was a very bad man. Crazy.”

“Why? What did he do?” Kayla asked.

Dick gave her a slightly incredulous look. “KK, he pointed a _gun_ at you.”

Kayla looked up at him. “Daddy has guns.”

“But he doesn’t point them at _you_!” Dick said. “Kayla, baby, you could have _died_ tonight!” Dick choked on that last sentence. “Kayla…” he hugged her tighter.

Kayla heard the tears that made Dick’s voice thicken. She looked up at Jason, surprised to see his eyes also bright with tears. Her own eyes started tearing up. “Daddy,” she sobbed, hiding her face in Dick’s chest. “I don’t- I don’t want to die.”

“Kayla, _god_ , no. We will do whatever we have to to protect you,” Jason promised. “Me and Daddy and Grandpa B and Uncle Dami and everyone else, okay? We’ll protect you. Whatever it takes.”

~

“What do we do, Dickie?” Jason asked in a hushed voice. “We can’t just continue to keep secrets from her like this.”

“They’re for her own good, Jason,” Dick argued. “I- I don’t want her to have the same life we did.” He dropped his head in shame. “I don’t want to go through the same things Bruce did with us.”

Jason’s lips pressed together tightly. “We _knew_ something like this would eventually happen. From the moment we signed those papers, we put her life in danger.”

“Are you saying you regret it?” Dick asked fiercely, glaring up at Jason.

“Of course not!” Jason exclaimed. “But we can’t leave her in the dark like this anymore. She’ll be in even more danger now.”

Dick played with his fingers in his lap. “So we train her.”

“We can’t do that,” Jason said. “What happened to her having a normal life, Dick? You think being trained to fight and to endure immense amounts of pain and being out there at night will make her any safer?”

“Not to _fight_ ,” Dick said. “Self-defense. She’ll learn everything we know, but she won’t go out into Gotham.”

“But-”

“Jason, we aren’t going to be able to protect her every second of the day. Us, being us, as you said, already puts her in danger. What if one of us dies one day? What if you don’t make it back from a mission? What if I miscalculate a jump? What happens to her then?”

Jason was silent. He looked down at the ground, frowning. “So we train her?” he finally asked.

Dick sighed heavily. “Not us. Batman.”

Jason frowned even deeper. “Oh, hell no, I’m not handing my daughter over to that cursed little brat.”

Dick gave Jason a tired look. “He _knows_ how to train someone. _Kids_. We don’t.”

Jason did not look any more reassured. “Who’s going to drive her across Gotham and back each day?” he asked.

Dick met Jason’s eyes. They were wide and solemn, and more than a little hurt. “We don’t,” he whispered. “She’ll live at the Manor.”

~

**16 YEARS OLD**

“Dad!” Kayla complained. “Really? In the middle of the living room?”

Dick turned his head up to look at her innocently. “What? I’m just doing yoga.”

“My friends are coming over in ten minutes,” she said, putting a pillow back onto the couch. “And the entire house is a mess, and you’re doing _yoga_?”

Dick let his legs fall back to the ground slowly. “Kayla, I’m not the only person living in this house, okay?”

“Yeah, well you’re 50%,” she said. She huffed and crossed her arms. “How can you live here?”

“Hey, watch your tone,” Dick warned. “I’m not liking your attitude.”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “Just because Dad’s gone now doesn’t mean you can stop taking care of yourself,” she growled.

Dick sat up, frowning up at his daughter. “Just because you’re no longer living in this house on a daily basis does not mean I’m not your father.”

She glared at him for a few seconds. She finally huffed. “Okay, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. I just- have a lot going on right now.”

Dick sighed. “We all do, honey. Life’s not easy.”

“I’m a teenager, Dad,” Kayla said. “I have _school_ , and a social life, and-” she stopped.

“So did I,” Dick countered. “I _also_ attended social functions with your Grandpa B. And spent my nights out in the city in green panties.” He raised an eyebrow. “You had something else to say?”

“No,” she said, a bit sullenly.

“Yes, you did. You have school, a social life, and what?” he prodded.

Kayla blushed and rolled her eyes. “Boys, okay?”

“You have a boyfriend?” Dick asked, eyes narrowing again.

“No!” Kayla said, turning even redder. She glanced away.

“You _want_ to have a boyfriend?” Dick asked.

“I’m not so cruel as to condemn someone to being introduce to _my_ family,” Kayla snorted.

“But you want to have a boyfriend,” Dick said. He shook his head and tsked. “Your dad won’t approve. Neither will your Uncle Damian.”

“That’s why I’m not going to _tell them_ ,” Kayla said.

“You _live_ in the Manor, you realize?” Dick asked. “Your Uncle Damian trains you for three hours a day. He’s a human lie detector.”

Kayla shrugged. “And one of my parents is a horrible liar while the other has a poker face that rivals Batman’s. Guess which one I inherited.”

“Hey!” Dick said with a laugh. He rolled his neck around a couple times. “So, how is the training going?”

Kayla shrugged. “Fine. I can’t really complain about it, I mean, apparently _everyone_ in this family’s gone through it.”

* * *

**So I wanted this to be a cutesy, bordering on crack, 'Dick-and-Jason-improvise-their-way-through-raising-a-kid' story. Then, it took a bit of a darker turn. And I tried going back to the light-hearted tone, but it just didn't work and I ended up losing interest, so hey, enjoy! <3**

**~4,418**


	19. Rivalry

**Tim/Jason (I think it's Jay, I don't know)**

**In which Tim has a crush on Jason... and someone else also likes Jason or something?**

* * *

Tim was horribly distracted in class. He tapped his pencil nonstop against his arm and could not stop staring up at the clock.

He ignored the teacher's lecture completely. Tim usually sat in the back of the class, by the window overlooking the (American) football field. He watched the varsity team practicing, doing drills and running laps.

His eyes were constantly drawn to a certain dark haired figure, currently doing push ups with a few others. Sweat glistened on the toned muscles on his back. Tim counted fifty push ups before he stood.

Tim watched him speak with one of his buddies, shoving them lightly. They went over to the bench and drank water. Tim watched his throat move with each swallow, a hand coming up to brush hair away from his face.

Tim could not see him clearly, but he could make out the sharp features. A small smile crept into Tim’s face.

Then, the boy on the field looked up, looking towards the building, at Tim. Tim felt his face growing red. He looked away quickly.

A few seconds later, Tim's phone buzzed in his pocket. Tim snuck a glance at the teacher before pulling out his phone. A text, from

* * *

**I believe this is what How We Ended Up Here originally started? I'm not sure, but it kinda makes sense. They start similarly, but I have no idea what this is supposed to be, haha. I think this was my attempt at JayTim, but I decided JayDick would be better for this.**

**~203**


	20. Ring Around the Rosie

**Dick/Jason**

**In which Jason is an artist, and Dick is his boyfriend. And Dick finds a ring in the back of Jason's drawer.**

* * *

 Dick only saw the rings three times. And each time was worse than the last.

The first time he saw the ring, Dick did not mean to.

Dick had been looking through Jason’s drawers, looking for a spare t-shirt to wear, and he grabbed a dark blue one that was well loved and worn in the back of the drawer. It was scrunched up in a tight ball.

Dick pulled it out and the black, velvet box fell to the ground. Dick stared at it for a couple seconds, looked around the room, and then knelt down on the ground. He slowly picked it up.

His breath caught in his throat. Dick did not know whether or not open the box. He did not want to jump to conclusions immediately. After all, Jason could be keeping it for someone, or maybe it was an old box he was using for holding something else. Or, Dick’s heart started beating faster, he bought it recently for a specific reason.

Jason, Dick’s boyfriend of two years, was a well-known artist, his paintings could easily be sold for several thousand dollars each, and Jason loved to spoil Dick, no matter how much Dick insists he does not have to.

But Dick did not want to get his hopes up. He turned the box over in his hands a couple times. He was debating whether or not to look. Jason would never know, and Dick only wanted to make sure. He only wanted to make sure. Jason was currently at a silent auction across town. Dick had time.

He slowly cracked the box open. Dick gasped when he saw the ring.

It was while gold, with veins of pretty blue sapphire dust. Tears sprung up in Dick’s eyes. It was beautiful. He stuck the pad of his pointer finger inside. He felt the thin inscription inside.

Dick turned the ring towards the light to see the inscription.

_J+D_

It was simple and so _Jason_. Dick quickly put the ring back. He snapped the box shut again, his heart beating faster and faster in his chest.

Jason had a ring. For _him_.

But… Dick did not know if he was ready to marry yet. Dick had always had commitment issues. He was always afraid of Jason possibly someday regretting his decision, and they end up divorced. Dick did not want to lose Jason.

Dick quickly wrapped the box back up and stuffed it into the back into the drawer. Dick quickly left the room, completely forgetting about the about t-shirt he was about to borrow.

He acted quiet and a bit weird at dinner that night, and Jason noticed, but did not think too much of it.

Dick was kept on his feet the next three months, just waiting for a time when Jason might get down on a knee. When he did not, Dick relaxed a little bit.

He was not sure if he was ready to get married yet.

~

The second time Dick sees the ring, it was on the third year anniversary of their relationship. Jason took them to a fancy restaurant, and Jason was very sweet the entire evening, and Dick loved every moment of it.

**< Jason proposes to Dick. Dick gets scared, and lets Jason down nicely, at least. Dick’s not a dick. Jason disappears and stops selling his paintings. Dick is plagued with guilt.>**

~

The last time Dick sees the ring, it was by mistake once more.

He had not seen Jason in three years. In fact, Dick had no idea where Jason had gone off to. Jason disappeared a couple weeks after the proposal. He moved out of his house, changed his number, called off all contact with his friends and family. Dick was devastated.

He searched for a long, long time for any information on Jason, but he found nothing. As far as Dick knew, Jason Todd had disappeared off the face of the Earth. He no longer sold paintings, if he even still painted at all. Dick did not even know if Jason was alive at that point. Dick had singlehandedly ruined Jason’s entire life with one response. Dick never regretted something more.

Finally, after over a year, Dick gave up.

~

“Why do you want to go to this estate sale again?” Dick asked, begrudgingly letting himself be dragged up the long ass driveway to some house nestled in the mountains of Wyoming. Freaking Wyoming. Tim made him drive all the way out to Wyoming for an estate sale, and Dick was having a very hard time understanding why.

“Are you kidding?” Tim exclaimed. “This is probably the thing I need to make or break my career right now!” he stressed. “Some famous artist died recently, and there was no will written for him, so all his stuff is being sold.”

“And you’re covering this story because?” Dick said.

“Uh, duh. He was a famous artist. Then, _poof_ , he’s gone, like magic. Until now,” Tim wiggled his eyebrows at Dick.

“And I’m here because?” Dick asked.

“I can’t come alone,” Tim said, affronted. “You’re supposed to be my dear boyfriend who really loves art, so you can distract the people in charge by asking questions about the _beautiful, stunning_ pieces of art while I do a bit of snooping around the house.”

“That’s a bit disrespectful, don’t you think?” Dick asked, eyeing the long line of people that wound with the driveway. He felt tired just looking at it.

“We’ll be in and out in an hour,” Tim promised. “Just a quick peek. Besides, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to distract them, right? Your old boyfriend was an artist, wasn’t he?”

Dick stiffened, but Tim turned away before he could see it. Tim dragged Dick up the driveway, passing the line and straight to the front. He flashed the security guard a smile, flashed an ID of some sort and they were allowed inside.

Dick finally got a glimpse inside the house. Paintings of all kinds lined the walls. Dick was a bit surprised at the amount of artwork. Artists usually sold their works, right? Jason did that.

Tim flashed Dick a smile and a thumbs up before ducking away, leaving Dick alone.

Almost immediately, he was approached by a well-dressed woman carrying a clipboard. “Hello, sir,” she said. “How are you today?”

“I’m fine,” Dick said, still looking at the paintings. They were all painted in dark toned colors. No bright splashes of color anywhere. Rather moody, in Dick’s opinion.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” she asked, smiling.

“Not really. I’m just looking at the artwork,” Dick said.

“Oh?” the woman piqued. She quickly caught the bit of information and tried to build off it. “Is there anything to your liking?”

Dick shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “Everything’s a bit dark for my taste. Really well done, though,” he said. “I really love that portrait.”

The lady smiled wider, flashing pearly whites. “You’re just in luck, sir! There are a couple paintings upstairs that have some brighter colors, if you want to take a look? They’re in the master bedroom.”

Dick did not want to go. All the art was reminding him of Jason. Dick felt his heart hurt a little. But he smiled weakly. “Sure.”

The lady led him up the stairs and down a short hallway. She stepped into the master bedroom at the end of the hall, nodding and smiling at the couple already in the room.

Dick followed her inside. The woman nodded at two paintings, hung side by side, right across from the bed.

“These are the only colorful pieces in the entire house,” she said. “They’re also some of the oldest paintings here, probably painted back in 2014.”

Dick did not hear a word she said. Because he recognized the paintings. One of them at least. It was a painting of him. Jason said that he wanted to start painting portraits and asked Dick to model for him.

And this was that painting.

Jason had perfectly captured the small smile on his face, the way the shadows hung onto ever contour of his face, the bright hopeful eyes filled with love. Jason had teased that he might has well have just painted his own Mona Lisa.

Dick loved that painting, and he always joked that he was so lonely on that canvas, looking off to the left, as if staring at something.

So in his free time, Jason painted a self-portrait, looking towards the right. Jason promised not to sell those two paintings, hanging them next to each other in their bedroom instead, so that every night they can see if when the go to sleep, and neither of them would be lonely.

After Dick rejected Jason’s proposal, Dick never saw those paintings again.

And some small part of him was glad of that. Because it hurt a lot to see those paintings now. Dick’s thoughts whirled in his head.

But he had to be sure.

“Who… Who painted these?” Dick asked, his voice sounding faraway.

The lady gave him an odd look. “Uh, well, the late Mister Todd did, of course. He painted everything in this house.”

Dick’s knees nearly gave out beneath him. Jason was dead. _His_ Jason was _dead_. Dick wanted to scream, to cry, to break something, but he could not find the will to act.

“Are you okay, sir?” the lady asked.

Dick swallowed hard. “Why- Why is the face of the other man covered?” Dick asked. He forced his eyes to look over at the other painting, the one that should have been of Jason, looking back at Dick.

But a huge splotch of bright red paint, like someone had accidentally spilled a bucket of paint right over Jason’s face. But Dick knew it was no accident. Jason did not make careless mistakes like leaving a bucket of bright red paint open where someone could tip it over.

Jason did it on purpose. He painted over his own face and ruined his painting on purpose.

The lady shrugged. “Rumors have it that that was the only self-portrait Mr. Todd ever painted. But something happened, probably with the man in the matching portrait, and Mr. Todd could not stand looking at the two paintings again, so he ruined one of them, but could not bear to separate the paintings.” The lady watched Dick closely for a reaction. “Are you looking to buy them? You can purchase both or one.”

Dick wanted her to stop talking to shut up. Did she not know that the love of his life is dead, and Dick never even knew about it?

He needed to get out of there.

“Ex-Excuse me,” he managed before stumbling out of the bedroom, where Jason went to sleep every night, tortured over who knows what while staring at those paintings. Dick wondered what Jason could be thinking when he looked at those paintings again.

Dick wondered how much heartbreak Jason went through to end up not being able to stand the sight of those paintings anymore. Jason had always loved his work, they were like his children. He would not purposely destroy one without an extreme circumstance.

Dick’s eyes were blurred by tears as he raced back down the stairs. He was just about to burst out of the house when Tim grabbed his wrist.

“Hey, Dick!” Tim said. “Come look at this thing I found! So apparently, this artist is rumored to be hermit, completely blocked off from other human contact. But if he were truly a hermit, why was he planning on proposing to someone?” Tim reached onto a table and picked up an open velvet box.

In the middle of the box sat a vaguely familiar ring. A ring Dick had seen twice before.

“Which brings up the question, who _is_ this Jason Todd? A troubled artist until his very last breath? Or has he just ‘gone into hiding’ again? Possibly eloped with his love? But then why did he leave the ring? Maybe he got into some trouble with the law? Or perhaps-”

Dick reached out with shaking hands to grab the ring from its box. He lifted it and held it in the palm of his hands.

“Quick, put it back! They’ll think you’re stealing it,” Tim hissed.

Dick did not listen. He slipped the ring onto his finger, and the moment it settled perfectly onto his left ring finger, Dick sobbed aloud.

He had been an idiot. He thought he would lose Jason. But by rejecting his proposal, he lost him even sooner. If he had known that Jason would die in two years, Dick would have married him ten times over. He would take the chance, and he would make sure Jason’s last two years were the happiest years of his life.

Instead, they had both suffered.

“Dick?” Tim asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. “H-Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s all my fault!” Dick exclaimed.

“Wh-What’s your fault?” Tim asked hesitantly. “Oh, Dickie, you didn’t split up him and his fiancée, did you?”

Dick sobbed again. “But I _did_.”

Tim gasped. “ _Wait_ , you did? Oh my fiddlesticks, Dick! That’s great! I mean, horrible, but imagine what I could _write_ about it!” Dick did not rise from his sobbing. Tim’s smile disappeared a little. “Dick? Dick?!” He dropped to the ground next to his friend. “What’s wrong, Dickie?”

“I- I,” Dick gasped aloud. “We- He-”

“Dick, Dick, calm down! Breathe… Breathe,” Tim said softly, rubbing his back.

Dick took deep breaths and finally, finally calmed down. Thankfully, no one turned up and walked in during that time.

“Dick…” Tim said softly. “What is it?”

“It’s Jason’s ring,” Dick whispered in a hoarse voice.

 “Jason? Yeah, it’s in his house, Dickie. Great observation.”

* * *

**Ah, if I had finished this last night, I may have actually completed it. But oops, I didn't, and today I suddenly lost interest. I just don't think it's the right level of angst.**

**~2,457**


	21. The Fire of the Heart and Soul

**Tim/Damian, Dick/Jason, Gen**

**In which Damian became a demon and is visiting the Manor with his new family and fiance Tim, also a demon. However, Damian's brother Tim does not trust the other Tim very much.**

**AN ATTEMPT AT A ONE-SHOT FOLLOWING THE EPILOGUE OF THE BATFAMILY DEMON AU. DEMON AU CHARACTERS (apart from Damian) ARE BOLDED.**

* * *

 

“Why is there mistletoe hanging above this doorway?” Tim asked, glaring up at the offending plant. “It's four months from Christmas!”

“Oh, sue me for trying to help out!” Jason snapped, wrenching the plant from above the doorway and sticking it down the back of Tim's shirt. Tim growled at him, twisting and reaching to remove the mistletoe. Jason ran off before Tim successfully got the plant out.

“Jason!” He yelled after him. “Act your age sometime!”

Then, Dick came waltzing in, a large platter of freshly baked cookies in his hands. He smelled like the cookies. “Be cheerful, Timmy!” He said, doing a pirouette before setting the cookies on the table in the middle of the den. Alfred followed, pushing a cart with tea. The room had been rearranged to cater to more people.

Bruce had insisted they gather in the parlor, as that was the use of the room, but Damian has insisted his friends would be more comfortable in a less formal situation.

Tim was a flurry of nerves. He did not even know why he was so nervous. He had met Damian’s little posse before, a little over a year ago and spent twenty four hours in their company.

But for some odd reason, he was feeling snappish and irritated that Jason and Dick were messing around.

“You're going to drop things off you keep trying to dance,” he grumbled, following Dick out and leaving Alfred to finish setting up.

“Why are you so worried?” Dick asked, spinning on his heels and walking backwards. “It's just Damian. You saw him last month.”

“He's coming with his- his demon friends.”

“So?”

“They look like us, Dickie!”

Dick shrugged. “I really don't have an issue with them. I thought they were pretty nice.”

“They turned out brother into one of them,” Tim deadpanned.

“Yes, but he's still our little Damian. He's just not human anymore. We've known many people who aren't human. We've gotten along fine with them,” Dick said, frowning slightly. “Damian hadn't changed just because he's a demon now.”

Tim glared at the ground. “I’m not- That doesn't bother me… not really.”

“Then what's wrong?” Dick stopped walking and placed his hands on Tim's shoulders. They were the same height now, so it did not have the same effect.

Tim frowned harder. “I don't know. Something… just irks me.”

“Well, you've never had a problem again Damian before,” Dick said slowly. “And he told us about his choice nearly three months ago. So it's something with his friends, isn't it?”

Tim looked around the hall, his eyes landing on Damian’s old katana, beautifully polished and mounted on the wall.

“It's his boyfriend.”

“Fiance,” Dick immediately corrected. “And what's wrong with him?”

“I…” Tim thought about it. “I feel like I don't compare up to him,” he finished softly.

“Oh, Tim,” Dick said, pulling Tim into a hug. It was a comfort to know that Dick's hugs never felt less sincere. “You’re his brother. He's Damian's fiance and bond mate or something like that. Of course, you don't compare!”

Tim jerked back, glaring at Dick.

“I meant,” Dick said, going a little red. “He sees you two differently and has different expectations for you. He won't expect you to kiss him every time he walks into a room or know exactly what he's feeling at any given time.”

Tim made a face at that thought.

“And Damian won't expect his fiance to constantly challenge and go against everything he says. His fiance doesn't single handedly run a multi-billion dollar company either.”

“His _fiance_ runs Hell, Dick,” Tim said dryly.

“Touche, but c'mon Tim. You two have much more history. You saw him grow up. You've gotten though so much more together. Trust me, you'll compare, if Damian ever compares you guys, which I doubt he will.”

Tim made a disgruntled noise. “I guess.”

“Great,” Dick said, smiling widely. “Go get yourself ready. They'll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“I _am_ ready,” Tim said.

Dick eyed him. “In _that?_ Well, you certainly won't compare to anyone wearing a shirt that looks like an used teabag! Go change and make yourself presentable.”

So Tim went and got changed into a tan turtleneck, and a black blazer over it. He switched out his sweatpants for a pair was dark blue jeans. He looked at himself in the mirror, pushing his long hair out of his face and quirked a tiny smile. He remembered how Damian used to always complain about the length of his hair, but the complaints did not return with Damian.

He then began his stroll down to the cave. Jason, Dick and Bruce were already there, all dressed nicely. Well, Bruce was wearing the usual full suit and tie ensemble. He had gotten much better in the last year. He could walk on his own now, and his hair had gone back to its pitch black color, though still streaked with white. Even so, he stood and held himself with the same, if not more, air of importance as he did before Damian disappeared.

Tim have them nods of greeting, letting them carry on with their conversations. He stared at the teleportation tube. Just as he did so, it lit up blue, the color growing brighter and brighter until it was blinding.

Then, the light disappeared and the quiet _whoosh_ of the door opening made them all turn back to the portal.

Dick jumped into action first. “Dami!” He squealed, running forward and tackling Damian the minute he stepped for outside of the tube. “I missed you!”

Damian grunted, catching Dick with one arm. “I saw you twenty-seven days ago, Grayson.” But his voice did not hold the same menace. While Dick continued squeezing Damian, Tim turned to the three behind him.

Damian finally pushed Dick away and stepped out to make way for the others. He approached Bruce first.

“Father,” he said loudly. “This is my fiance Timothy.” **Tim** stepped forward, a bit uncertainty. He gave Bruce a small smile but was meet with a cold expression.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne,” **Tim** said. “Damian's told me a lot about you.” Then he nodded at Tim, Jason, and Dick. “All of you.”

“His brother, Jason,” Damian continued, waving at the tall man standing coolly by the stairs. “And Jason's husband, and my friend, Dick.”

Bruce eyed them all, and Tim felt a secret sense of glee that they all looked slightly uncomfortable under the Batman gaze.

Finally, Bruce spoke. He smiled a little. “Please,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “Just Bruce is fine.” Then he paused. “Unless… it makes you uncomfortable, of course.”

However, **Tim** smiled. “No, it's fine. Thank you for having us,” he said politely.

Bruce started to speak again, but Dick interrupted. “Sorry, I know we're doing introductions and all, but there's a plate of cookies upstairs, and I didn't get a chance to nick a snickerdoodle before Alfred plated them, so do you mind moving into the den?”

Damian have him an exasperated look.

* * *

**I really, really wanted to write this. I kept telling myself I would, but it has been almost a year since the demon AU, so I thought I might as well put this out there. So yeah, don't think it's happening. I really do love the demon AU though. And demon Dami just warms my heart, honestly.**

**~1,174**


	22. Sun Kissed

**Dick/Jason**

**In which Jason has a problem with too many freckles. And Dick loves Jason's freckles too much. And Tim is an evil little brother.**

* * *

 Jason has always had a problem with freckles.

He had managed to keep the freckling to a minimum most of the time, wearing the helmet when working, applying copious amounts of sunscreen to his skin when he has to step outside for ten minutes, or just plain hiding it when they do pop up.

After the dip in the Pit that permanently changed his hair black, it did not take away the freckles that came with his red hair and blue-green eyes.

Which is why when Jason woke up on Sunday and looked in the mirror, he nearly screamed in frustration.

He had those damned brown spots covering his cheeks, nose, down the backs of his arms, and all across his damn back. Jason started shaking.

Yesterday, the sun was shining in Gotham, the skies were clear, and Dick had managed to convince Bruce to take a day off from work. So Dick dragged the entire family to the beach, which included Jason of course.

Jason had no interest in playing beach volleyball with the girls, or surfing with Tim, Duke and the Kents, building “the finest sand castle in the world” with Damian and Jon, or even collecting seashells with Dick. He opted for a nap.

But since Bruce and Alfred were sitting under the umbrella, and Jason was not about to fall asleep and let his guard down near Bruce, he dragged his own towel farther away and lay down there.

Dick had helped apply sunscreen all over his pale, and _freckle-less_ skin, promising to come back in an hour to reapply.

Obviously the idiot forgot. And Jason had no doubt it was on purpose.

See, Dick had a _thing_ for Jason’s freckles. He would freak out about them every time he spies a single spot on Jason’s skin. But unlike Jason freaking out, Dick would drop everything and run over and kiss that freckle over and over again.

No matter where they were, it would happen.

Once, it happened at a family dinner. A couple times, on patrol. It even happened once while they were on a date in a fancy ass restaurant.

Dick seemed to have an gift for finding the freckles, no matter how scarce they were. And now that Jason had probably _thousands_ of them, there was no way he was going to be able to hide them from Dick.

So Jason did the only thing he could. He immediately started packing a bag.

He would get out of Gotham, maybe stay in one of Red Hood’s safe houses in New York, check up on some business there, while his freckles disappeared.

It should not raise much alarm, seeing that he often disappeared without a word (though it also usually made Dick very angry). But Jason was going to risk the anger. He was no sure he could live through the embarrassment of a thousand kisses, and Dick cooing at each and every freckle.

Jason zipped up his bag, slung it over his shoulder and wrenched his door open. He started down the hall quickly, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up to cover his face. Just as he turned the corner, he ran into Tim.

“Jason?” Tim asked. “You’re out early. I was just coming to visit you.”

Jason kept his gaze on the ground. “Yeah, I’m doing great, thanks. You can leave now.”

“Er, I brought breakfast though. Alfred was worried you weren’t eating healthily.”

“I’ve been eating fine,” Jason said urgently. He had to get out of here before Dick found time to visit. Jason was _sure_ his  boyfriend “forgot” to apply more sunscreen for a reason. “Tell Alfie not to worry.”

“Where are you going?” Tim asked nosily. “Spending a few days out of town again?”

“Yeah, might be for a while though. Dunno yet.”

“You seemed pretty hurried to go,” Tim said. “Hiding something?”

“Damn it, Tim, I’ve got things to do. Just step aside and let me go,” Jason growled, glancing over at the boy. Wrong move.

Tim’s eyes widened. He started laughing. “Hah! Dick _was_ right!” he cackled. “Oh, Jay, you’re in for a treat. Are they all down your back too? I knew it!”

“You’re in on this too?!” Jason gasped, feeling betrayed.

“Are you kidding? It was my idea,” Tim said smugly. “I told Dick not to reapply your sunscreen. A little mental image was all the convincing he needed.”

“Why, _you-_ ”

Tim grinned. “Wait until Dickie hears about _this_!” Tim whipped out his phone, ready to speed dial Dick.

“No!” Jason shouted. He grabbed Tim’s phone and chucked it behind him.

“Hey!” Tim yelled. As he turned to attempt to catch his phone, Jason bolted.

He was getting out of Gotham no matter what.

* * *

**Ah, it was cute, and it's still cute, but I lost interest 10 minutes in, so sorry. I'm just not good at writing fluff. Ugh, whatever, I guess. Just another idea for the unfinished work, no biggie.**

**~789**


	23. The Post Office

**Tim/Damian**

**In which Tim has been receiving really well done drawings of him from an anonymous person. Tim has no idea who it is. After all, he does not get out much aside from work at the WE office and as Red Robin. But all the drawings are of _Tim_ , not Red, and Tim is dying to find out who his secret admirer is.**

* * *

Timothy Drake is twenty-four years, six months, and eighteen days old when he gets the first drawing. He had a long night patrolling, and he was sore all over.

That morning, Tim is tired and cranky. He spills the first batch of coffee all over the kitchen counter, and when he goes to make a second pot, the coffee maker sputters and dies out on him. So Tim, more frustrated and upset than before, prepares to go to work _without_ coffee.

As he starts towards the front door, Alfred clears his throat from behind him.

“Master Tim,” Alfred says. “There was something for you in the mail this morning.”

Tim takes the nondescript envelope from Alfred, frowning. He rips it open, nearly tearing what is inside. Tim never gets letters that are sent to the Manor. All his mail, which is usually related to work, is sent to him electronically or to his office at Wayne Enterprises.

Tim unfolds the thick paper inside and flips it over. He is surprised by it, blinking several times and wondering if he is still dreaming.

On the paper was a drawing, more specifically, a drawing of him. It is a crude sketch, done quickly with a cheap pen, but in just a few strokes, someone captured him like a photograph.

“What is it, Master Tim?” Alfred asks, snapping Tim out of his daze.

“Uh, it’s nothing,” Tim says. He considers crumpling it up, but he could not bear to for some reason. He just folds it back up and tucks it into his pocket. He gives Alfred a smile. “Thank, Alfred. Bye!”

As Tim sat through early morning traffic, he pulled the drawing out again. He examines the strokes, everything done without a second thought, but so deliberately as well. Tim has never had anyone draw him before, so he is a little bit taken by it. In the picture, Tim is staring up at something, a mysterious curve of a smile on his lips.

Tim pulls out the envelope again. There is no return address on it. His address is even printed on a sticker, just stuck onto the envelope. Certainly odd.

When he arrived at work, Tim forgets about the picture. He has a cup of coffee and feels much better.

“You’re sure in a cheery mood today, Mr. Drake!” his secretary Marcy said. “Did you have a good morning?”

Tim thinks back to the picture. He does not know why, but it fills him with a strange sense of joy. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess I did.”

Later that day, during lunch, Damian drops by with some important files. Damian works at the other Wayne Enterprises office on the other side of Gotham. His office is made up of more board members and executives than actual employees.

“You want to stay for lunch?” Tim asks. “Marcy’s just gone down to pick up my pizza.”

Damian shook his head. “I have work to get to. I need to be finished by the afternoon, so I can work on _other_ things.” Damian’s pointed look tells Tim it is related to their other job.

“Ah, pity,” Tim says. “It’s a veggie pizza from Hally’s.”

Damian frowns. “Since when do you order veggie pizzas? Or from Hally’s? If I recall correctly, you have a weakness for cheese a mile wide.”

Tim shrugs. “Well, I suspected you’d be stopping by around lunchtime.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you ordered a veggie pizza for me?” Damian asks.

Tim shrugs and kicks his feet up onto the desk, much to Damian’s disapproval. “You can believe whatever you want, little prince.”

Damian scowls. It had been a while since he graduated from the status of “baby bat”, but now their family had taken to calling him “little prince”, since as the public saw it, the son of Gotham’s prince must also be a prince. “Get your feet off Father’s desk, Drake,” he growls instead.

Just then, there is a knock on the door, and Marcy pops her head in with a huge smile. “Mr. Drake! Your pizza is here! Oh, hey, Mr. Wayne!”

* * *

**It's official, I can't write fluff.**

**~685**


	24. Dick Grayson Can't Clean

**Dick/Jason**

**In which Dick Grayson cannot clean, and Jason cannot take it anymore.**

* * *

 “Seriously, Dick?” Jason laughed as took off his helmet and shook out his hair. “Three AM ice cream now?”

Dick shrugged, unable to speak properly with the large spoon in his mouth. “I’s af’er padrol ice cweam.”

“Right, after patrol ice cream. Mind if I join you? I could use some… is that seriously just plain vanilla?” Jason snorted. He tossed his helmet onto Dick’s couch. It handed on a stack of newspapers and rolled to a stop by a pile of sweaters.

“’Kay, bu’ I hol’ duh tub.”

“Okay, Mr. Selfish.”

Dick grinned around his spoon. “Gwab a sboon.” Dick then turned and walked to his room, his too long sweatpants dragging on the ground, but he did not care. He flopped onto the bed and turned the TV on, pulling up his favorite rom-com. He knew Jason would complain but watch it with him with just as much enthusiasm.

He pulled his blankets off the floor and back onto the bed, crawling under the covers. He peeled the top off his quart of ice cream and took the spoon out of his mouth.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot shocked him out of his lazy, tired stupor.

He was out of bed in a flash, the ice cream and spoon forgotten on his bed. He dashed to the kitchen, jumping over a pile of dirty laundry, one of his escrima sticks, and over a pair of dress shoes.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked frantically. “Did you just shoot someone in my kitchen?!”

Jason stepped aside and pointed a shaking finger at something on the ground. Dick flipped the light on and stared at where Jason was pointing.

A huge cockroach lay there, its guts splattered all over the ground, a couple legs still twitching.

Dick felt his knees go weak. He leaned against the counter for support. “You… You shot a _cockroach_? Seriously, Jason?” he asked tiredly.

“Dick,” Jason said equally slowly. “That cockroach is fucking _huge_. If there’s one, who knows how many more there are? That was in your fucking silverware drawer.”

“So? Just- Just wash the spoon again before using it,” Dick said. “And you could’ve just smacked it with a magazine, not- not pulling out your gun like a trigger-happy idiot!”

“It was getting away, Dickie!”

“It’s just a cockroach!”

“How could you _say_ that? It may have laid God knows how many eggs in your house, infesting your living spaces with its disease carrying brood of little pests!” Jason yelled. He shivered hard. “I don’t feel safe standing here anymore.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Jay, it’s just-”

“Did you _know_ about this?!”

“Yes, I was aware-”

“And you did _nothing_?!”

Dick frowned. “I have those cockroach killing sticker things around here somewhere, but I haven’t gotten a chance to use them…”

“Those damn things don’t work properly!” Jason screeched. “God, what is wrong with you?!” He shook his head. “Don’t answer that. Grab some clothes, _clean_ clothes, please, grab a bag, and we’re getting out of here.”

“But-”

“No, you’re staying with me for a few days until your entire apartment building gets disinfected and cleaned.”

Dick opened his mouth to argue again, but Jason spotted another flash of black across the wall. He immediately shot at it. Dick’s eyes widened when the cockroach dropped down onto the counter, twitching.

“Oh, my God, Jason-”

Jason’s wild eyes, searching around the kitchen like a paranoid man, made Dick make his decision.

“Okay, okay,” he said, quickly grabbing Jason’s wrist and lowering his hands. “Just give me five to grab some clothes, okay?”

It took more than five minutes. Jason went and checked every single article of clothing before allowing Dick to drop it into the black backpack, which he also thoroughly checked.

Jason dug through Dick’s sock drawer as well, insisting he saw something move in there. Dick watched from over his shoulder nervously.

“Jay, there’s nothing in there-”

“I _saw_ something move, Dick-” Jason insisted, moving more stray socks aside. Suddenly he gasped, and Dick winced silently. Jason made a loud screeching noise, and there was a loud slap, and when Dick opened his eyes again, Jason was holding his palms out to him, a highly disappointed look on his face.

It was not a cockroach this time, but another giant bug. Jason stood up silently and went to go wash his hands. When he came back, wiping his hands on his pants, he calmly said, “You probably want to burn all those socks. It could have laid eggs in there. And I highly suggest finding a better place for your sex toys.”

Dick nodded slowly, his eyes closing in mortification again. “Got it.”

Jason said nothing more, just sighing softly. He shouldered Dick’s backpack and grabbed his helmet. “Let’s go, Dickiebird.”

~

Apparently it took a ridiculous amount of money to disinfect an entire apartment building, especially one in such filth like Dick’s apartment. So instead, Jason made Dick move into another building.

He then spent an entire day helping Dick move in.

But as Dick stood by the doorway, several cardboard boxes stacked in his arms, he knew that ‘helped’ was exaggerating.

“What is this stuff, Dick? You can’t just toss your clothes in here! Why are you so disorganized?” Jason asked, throwing things out of Dick’s new closet again. He pulled the box of hangers towards him and started hanging each and every one of the articles of clothing up.

“Seriously? There’s no use bothering with that, Jay,” Dick said, peering at Jason from around his stack of boxes.

“It keeps your clothes _clean_ and _in good condition_. No wonder you look like a mess all the time. Your living spaces reflect that very clearly. You seriously can’t even clean up after yourself?”

“I _do_ ,” Dick said indignantly.

Jason gave Dick an unconvinced look. “No, you don’t. You send your dirty clothes to the coin laundry when there are no more underwear you can wear twice anymore. You only do the dishes when they’re piled up to the point where you can’t pile anything else on it. I doubt you’ve ever swept or vacuumed. I’ve never seen your bed made, and there are dust bunnies under there the size of actual bunnies.”

Dick frowned. Jason was not _wrong_ , but he could have been nicer when he delivered the news. “I work a full-time job, and I’m a vigilante at night as well. So, _sorry_ if I don’t have the time or energy to clean up.”

Jason sighed heavily. “If you forget every once in a while, I don’t care, but… this is ridiculous.”

“I’m not good at cleaning, Jay.”

Jason winced. “I know.”

* * *

**This was based off a headcanon I wrote on Tumblr, and I wanted to write it, but it didn't really go anywhere. So now it's dumped here!**

**~1,116**


	25. A Dragon's Egg

**Gen**

**In which, Dick finds a dragon egg in an antique shop. There is a creepy old lady.**

* * *

  **THREE WEEKS AGO**

“Ooh, what’s this?”

Dick reached into the back of the shelf, past an array of colored glass bottles, covered in a layer of dust so thick it was hard to tell what color the glass was, or that it was even glass in the first place.

The bottles clinked against each other as Dick wove his hand to the very back of the shelf, where a dusty, round object sat in a frayed, satin box. Dick coughed as the dust flew up. Still, he pulled the small box out and gently grabbed the round object inside. He carefully brushed dust off of it.

Dick frowned. “The hell is this?” he muttered.

There was a raspy chuckle from behind him. Dick whipped around so quickly in the small space between the cramped shelves he nearly dropped the round object.

“That, dearie,” said the old lady that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Is a _dragon’s_ egg. It’s over two thousand years old.”

“A dragon’s egg?” Dick asked dubiously.

“ _Yes_ ,” the lady said. “A _dragon’s_ egg. Very rare, very dangerous,

* * *

**Yes, it just ends there. I might continue this someday, though I have no actual idea what it was meant to be. I do have another dragon fic in the works atm, but it's different from this.**

**~180**


	26. The Five Stages of Sleep Deprivation

**Tim/Damian**

**In which Tim is often sleep deprived, and Damian notices? Or something like that.**

* * *

 Timothy Drake goes through five different stages when he does not get enough sleep.

Damian does not _mean_ to notice it, but he did. The stages go as such: fatigue, lapses in memory, uncharacteristic mood swings, hallucinations, and paranoia. Usually someone in the family manages to force Tim to go to sleep before the last two stages, so rarely do the last two happen.

And Damian knows fully well that there are more symptoms to sleep deprivation, but he has not witnessed Tim in those stages yet, but that does not mean they don’t happen.

* * *

**A/N ~ Yeah, this did not go far at all.**

**~95**


	27. The Wolf Pup

**Dick/Jason**

**In which, Dick accidentally adopts a wolf pup, who also happened to be a werewolf. He names it Jason.**

* * *

 

It all started the day 11-year-old Dick Grayson brought home the stray puppy.

The unconscious creature was huge compared to the young boy, almost too big to be carried by Dick.

Alfred had just come up from the Cave, a tray empty of tea and cookies when he saw Dick trudge in from the back door, the mangy dog in his arms.

“Help him, Alfred!” Dick exclaimed, walking with his back bent to be able to hold the puppy off of the ground.

“Master Dick… wherever did you find this- this-”

“Puppy,” Dick said firmly. He let Alfred take the dog from him. “I found him in the forest! He was lying on the ground, and I thought he was dead, and I was going to bury him, but then he moved, so I picked him up and brought him home!”

“Master Dick, this animal could be very sick, and it’s not safe to bring stray animals into-”

“But you can make him better, right?” Dick asked, his eyes widening and becoming sad. “Please don’t let him die!”

Alfred sighed. “Of course. Let’s go see what we can do, okay?”

Dick beamed and skipped after Alfred.

Together, they have the rather large puppy a bath, dribbled some water into its mouth, wrapped it up in many blankets, and set it in a makeshift bed. Then, Dick waited, sitting right next to the box, gently stroking his new puppy’s head, waiting for it to wake up.

It did not take too long for the puppy to awaken. When its eyes opened, Dick was ecstatic.

That is, until his puppy snapped at him, baring its sharp teeth and growling.

Then, Dick backed away, almost reaching the other side of the room before the animal stopped growling. Dick yelled for Alfred, who advised Dick to stay away from the dog until the vet arrived.

The vet had some strange news.

She sat Dick down and very patiently explained, “Mr. Grayson, it seems that the _puppy_ you found, is not actually a dog’s puppy. It is a _wolf’s_ puppy.”

“So… Jason is a wolf?”

The vet blinked at Dick. “Er… yes, your puppy-”

“Jason,” Dick reminded her.

“-right, Jason, is indeed a wolf. But see, he is a wild animal. You can’t… keep him.”

Dick gasped. “I can’t? But- But he’s sick!”

“Yes, I am aware of that,” the vet said patiently. “But when Jason gets better, he must be released back into the forest. He needs to go find his family again. His pack will be looking for him.”

“So I can’t keep him?”

“No, I’m sorry, honey,” she said, ruffling his hair.

Dick looked down at the ground. “Then I’m guessing you’re going to take him away?”

The vet winced. “You see, I did not come with the proper equipment to handle a wild animal today, and certainly not a wolf. And seeing that it would be a hassle to take, er, Jason to my clinic and then back here in a couple of weeks, Mr. Pennyworth has assured me that it would be okay that the wolf pup stays here until it heals.”

“So Jason’s staying?!”

“For only a couple of weeks. I will come to check on him a couple of times each week, but you _must not go near him_ , understand? Even though he is only a puppy, he can be _very_ dangerous.”

Dick nodded solemnly. “I know.”

“Okay,” the vet said. She nodded over Dick’s shoulder at where Alfred had been standing, listening in on the conversation. The vet stood up and ruffled Dick’s hair again. “Good-bye for now, Mr. Grayson.”

“Bye-bye,” Dick said, waving as the vet left the manor. As soon as her car was out of sight, Dick was zooming back down the hall towards the room the _wolf pup_ was in.

“Master Dick-” Alfred called after him.

Dick poked his head into the room, his eyes searching out the box where the wolf had been curled up in. Dick smiled widely. He gently stepped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

The wolf, which Dick had named Jason, turned his head at the noise, its amber eyes staring at Dick.

“Hi…” Dick said slowly. “I’m Dick,” he said, taking slow steps towards Jason.

Jason bared his teeth at Dick.

Dick held up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. He gave the wolf a smile and then sat down, about ten feet away. “See?”

The wolf stopped snarling, but never turned his head away from Dick. Dick just stared right back, amazed by the beauty of Jason.

“You know, I’ve always wanted a pet,” Dick said softly. “I’ve been asking Bruce for a while now, and he said that I would have to wait until I’m a little older, when I understand the responsibilities. But I really just want a friend. When I was at the circus, my only friend was Zitka. She’s an elephant, and she’s very smart. She was a good listener too, just like you!”

Jason’s ear twitched.

“Anyway, I’m really happy that the vet said you could stay here while you recovered. Then, for a little while, I can have a friend, even though I’m not allowed to get near you. I’m already breaking the rules anyway,” Dick laughed.

The door opened again. “Master Dick,” Alfred said, poking his head in, a stern look on his face. “You were specifically told _not_ to go near the wolf, young sir. Come out right now.”

Dick pouted. “But Alfie, he’s not hurting me!”

“Master Dick,” Alfred said warningly.

Dick sighed and gave Jason one last forlorn look. “Okay…”

He slowly stood up and trudged to the door, letting fall closed with a definite click.

* * *

**This was during that time I tried to write another werewolf fic. Maybe someday, sigh.**

**~957**


	28. A Break from Spring

**Gen**

**In which Dick has allergies during the springtime, and he hates it.**

* * *

 

“AHH- AHH- AHHHHHPHTCHOOOO!”

A tissue box flew across the room and hit Dick Grayson on the head. Dick groaned and grabbed a tissue, rubbing at his red and irritated nose.

“I buckin’ hate springtime,” he moaned, flopping backwards onto the couch. “My allergies keeps kickin’ in, and my nose hurts.”

“What are you telling me for?” Tim asked, not looking up from his laptop. “I don’t control the seasons.”

“Sympasize wit’ me, Timmy!”

“Oh, woe to Dick, woe on his poor, poor, allergic soul,” Tim said sarcastically. “Just pop some of your allergy medication, and you’ll be fine!”

“Dey- dey only work for, like, dree hours!”

“Three hours is peace, silence, and no sniffling. I’d say it’s pretty worth it.”

“Ugh! I don’t- ah… AHH… AHHTCHOOOO! BUCKIN’ HELL I HATE DIS PLACE!” Dick complained. “You- You know what? I’m gonna go fin’ Bruce an’ I’m gonna make him book me a flight outta the nordern hemisp’ere altogether.”

Tim snorted. “So you’re going to run away from springtime by leaving the northern hemisphere and going to, what, Australia?”

Dick sniffed again, his nose still horribly blocked up. “ _No_ , I’ve actually been tinking about takin’ a trip to Argentina. Heard fall is really nice there. With harvest and wine and stuff. And no _allergies_.”

Tim rolled his eyes.

“No, seriously,” Dick said, tossing his crumpled tissue aside carelessly. “I need a break from spring.”

* * *

**This was going to by a JayDick flash fic fill for the Spring Break prompt, but nah. I didn't complete it haha. Oh, well, it was entertaining to think about. Jason was supposed to be some random guy Dick fell in love with while on vacation, I think.**

**~232**


	29. Pretty Red Riding Hood

**Gen**

**In which, the Bats are actually a werewolves in a forest.**

* * *

 

Jason’s pack ruled the forest in which they roamed. They were the apex predators, and even the humans feared them.

Their forest lay between two small villages, and unless one went around the forest completely – a two-day trip – one must take the lone path that lead through the heart of the forest.

The villagers had tried for many, many years to purge the forest of Jason’s pack, but it was only bloodbath for the humans.

Nowadays, the humans were allowed to go as they pleased along the path, as long as they did nothing to harm the wolves or their home. And in turn, the wolves would mind their own business.

However, for a pack full of young wolves, minding their own business was hard.

“Bruce, we’re bored,” Tim announced loudly one day, walking into their alpha wolf’s cave and flopped down on the large furry mound.

The mound shifted, turning, and a the head opened its dark blue eyes. The humongous wolf yawned, snapping his jaws a couple of times before settling back into sleep.

Tim, who was a rather large wolf himself, was dwarfed in his human form. He fisted Bruce’s fur and pulled himself up, his feet not even touching the floor form where he sat on Bruce’s back.

“Damian, Cass and I want to go to the lake. We’ll be back before nightfall.”

Bruce grumbled.

“Please?” Tim asked. “You and Jay have the hunting thing covered, and I’m _tired_ of chasing squirrels.”

* * *

**Again, another abandoned werewolf Jason fic. One day, I promise I will be successful. It was supposed to be JayDick again, where Dick was Little Red Riding Hood and whatnot.**

**~248**

 

 


	30. The Live-In Maid

**Dick/Jason**

**In which Dick is the rich, bratty asshole type, and Jason is his new live-in maid. They're not roommates, but... it's close enough.**

* * *

 

The doorbell rang just as Dick stepped out of the shower.

It was nearly noon on a Sunday, and he had just gotten out of bed, seeing that he was horribly hungover from being out nearly all night partying with friends.

“Coming, coming,” Dick said with a huff. The constant ringing was making his head throb again. He pulled the door open, very much annoyed when the sharp sun pierced his eyes. “What?” he asked, squinting at whoever was standing at his door at such a god-awful time of the day.

“Uh-” the person said. “I’m from Caroline’s-”

“Sorry, no soliciting,” Dick said with a faux sweet voice. Then, he started to shut the door.

“I’m looking for a Mr. Dick Grayson,” the person said rudely, planting a hand on the door.

Dick shielded his eyes to see the person better. _The_ nerve _\- oh, good god, he’s hot._ Dick relaxed and let the door open up again. He leaned against the door jamb and smirked at the man he could barely see. He gave the man the most charming smile he could manage.

“I’m Mr. Dick Grayson,” Dick said as sexily as he could. “How can I help you?”

Strangely, the man snorted. “The better question is,” he said. “How can I help _you_? You’re the one who hired me. I’m from Caroline’s Cleaning? I’m your new live-in maid.”

~

“JASON!” Dick yelled when he walked out of his closet.

Jason came into the doorway of Dick’s room and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Where’s my purple shirt?” he asked. “The pretty pastel purple one?”

“It’s… probably in your closet,” Jason said. “Try the dresser. I folded your clothes.”

“Dresser? Huh, I haven’t used that think in months. I’ll check.” Dick ducked back into the closet. A few moments later, Jason hears, “I found it!”

Jason rolled his eyes and nodded. He turned back around and went back to dusting down Dick’s living room, which was unbearably dusty.

Jason had only been acting as Dick’s maid for barely 5 days, and he could already tell that it was not going to be easy cleaning up for Dick.

“Hey, Jason?” Dick asked, coming into the living room, wearing the pastel purple shirt and dark green jeans.

Jason was not a fashion expert, but Dick must have been color blind, or trying to make some kind of statement. However, Jason was the maid, not the fashion critic. So he turned a blind eye and continued with his dusting.

“Jason,” Dick said again. “Is there breakfast yet?”

Jason turned and blinked at Dick. “Sorry?”

“Breakfast,” Dick said again with a smile. He mimed eating. “You know… first meal of the day, heh.”

“There’s… coffee,” Jason said slowly. “And cereal in your pantry, I believe?”

“Oh,” Dick said, pouting. “So you didn’t cook anything?”

“No?” Jason said, baffled.

“Then what did you eat?” Dick asked.

“C-Cereal?” Jason said again.

Dick pouted harder. He stared at Jason for a few seconds longer, then, he slinked off into the kitchen. Jason heard him pouring cereal into a bowl and then proceeding to eat it dry. Jason just sighed softly and went back to work. He was the _maid_ , not the chef.

* * *

**I originally named this document "Forget Roommates AU, Live-In Maid, Baby!" Yup. But sue me, I still kind of like the idea. I just don't know if it's high on my "to-write" priorities.**

**~534**


	31. Charm My Heart

**Dick/Jason**

**In which Dick is an incubus sent to Earth as a punishment, under the care of a human being. He attends Gotham University, and could not care less about who he sleeps with, until he meets a certain Jason Todd.**

* * *

 Dick was not answering his phone.

At first, Bruce thought nothing of it. But after the fifth time, he knew something was wrong. So, he dinged the tracker in Dick’s phone, and it led Bruce to a frat house.

As Bruce stood in front of the building, looking up at it, and he sighed. A million things ran through his mind, and on a Sunday morning, none of them were good.

Bruce knocked on the door and waited for what would most likely be a hungover frat boy to open it.

He was right.

“Yeees?” the boy said, pulling the door wide open, wearing a sparkly pink bra and tight spandex shorts.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Did Dick Grayson happen to be at your party last night?” he asked.

The boy stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open. “Uh, M-Mr. Wayne!” He looked down at himself, glanced behind him, and quickly shut the door a bit so that he could hide behind it. He gave Bruce a sheepish smile. “Sorry, what can I do for you?”

“Dick Grayson,” Bruce repeated tiredly. “Is he here?”

“Ummm, I don’t know who-”

“Yes, you do,” Bruce interrupted. “About yea high, black hair, smiles a lot, weird blue eyes-”

“OH!” the boy said, grinning. “Yeah, Dickie! He’s up in John’s room, I think.” His smile dimmed when he noticed that Bruce was still frowning at him. “You, uh, you want me to get him, Mr. Wayne?”

“No, thank you,” Bruce said tersely. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Uh-” the boy started to say as Bruce pushed the door open and strolled into the frat house. It was a mess inside. There were people asleep on the stairs and red cups and cheap party decorations strewn everywhere. “Mr. Wayne-”

Bruce continued up the stairs. He passed a few more hungover frat boys, silently smug about how they all double took when they passed him.

“Where might I find John’s room?” Bruce called behind him to the first boy, who had scrambled after him, clutching his skimpy pink bra to his non-existent chest.

“Really, Mr. Wayne, I’ll just go get him, you don’t need to-”

“John’s room, Mr. Miller,” Bruce said, his patience stretched thin.

“Up those stairs, second door on the right,” the boy squeaked, stubbing his toe on bowling ball on the floor.

Bruce walked faster, losing the boy behind him. He climbed the stairs and found the door. The barely muffled moans told Bruce all he needed to know. At least he had the decency to knock.

“I’m busy!” someone called back.

Bruce knocked again, harder.

There was a low groan, one of frustration. Bruce heard some muffled voices, then the squeaking of a bed, and then the door was wrenched open, a pissed frat boy on the other side.

“What the fuck, didn’t I say I was busy-” the boy, John, snapped. Then, his eyes landed on Bruce’s face and he literally cowered. “ _Ah_ , Mr. Wayne, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Is Dick in there with you?”

“Uh, yeah, Dickie’s-”

Bruce ignored what he was about to say and pushed past John. The room was rather organized considering there had been a party the night before and it belonged to a 20-year-old college student.

There was a twin-sized bed pushed against the far wall, and sure enough, Bruce found Dick lying on the bed, barely awake and obviously naked with the covers pulled up over himself just enough to cover his junk.

“Aw, is it time to go already?” Dick yawned. “I just got up, B.”

Bruce glared at him.

Dick sighed. “Always ruining my fun, aren’t you?” he asked. He slid out of bed, stretching, stark naked, before going around the room the collect his clothes. Bruce looked up at the ceiling.

“Why can’t you ever let me do anything fun?” Dick asked, pulling a black tank top over his head. “I mean, I’ve listened to everything you said this week, _without argument,_ mind you. I stayed out of trouble. I helped an old lady across the street.” He pulled on his black jeans with some difficulty. “I _even_ helped Damian with his homework.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “Dick, you stole the old lady’s poodle after helping her across the street. She was kind enough not to press charges.” Dick finished getting dressed and crossed his arms with a huff. Bruce grabbed his bicep and started pulling him out of the room. Dick gave John a flirty wave and a wink as he passed. “And you didn’t help Damian with his homework. You sat next to Damian for an hour _distracting_ him from homework.” He pulled Dick out of the frat house, back into the sunlight. Dick groaned and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. “All I ask from you is to stay out of trouble. I don’t see why that’s so hard for you!”

They headed for the other side of campus. Bruce let go of Dick’s arm, and the younger man fell into step next to him. “I’m a _demon_ , B. I’m naturally attracted to trouble!”

“You’re _half-demon_ ,” Bruce growled. “Damian manages fine.”

“Damian’s thirteen, B,” Dick sighed. “I’m almost two hundred years old. We’ve got different priorities. And besides, Damian was raised by you. I was just unlucky enough to get caught,” he grumbled.

“Then you have to deal with the consequences,” Bruce said sternly. “You’re just prolonging your sentence, you realize?”

Dick gasped. “What?! No one told me that having fun was going to keep me locked up here for even longer!”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “You just weren’t listening when your sentence was delivered then.”

Dick groaned. “So no sex?”

“Or drinking, or seducing, or drugs, or stealing.”

“So I have to be- be some _angel_?” Dick snarled.

“No,” Bruce said. They made it to office building. Bruce’s office was on the top floor. “You just have to be a decent human.”

“But I’m not human,” Dick grumbled again.

“You are half-human,” Bruce reminded gently again. “It’s just a year, Dick.”

“A _year?”_ Dick asked in a horrified whisper. “That’s- That’s so long!”

“You should have thought about that before seducing one of Talia’s bodyguards,” Bruce said, opening the door to his office and nodding inside. Dick slouched his way inside, sitting down in Bruce’s hair with a huff. “Look, I can’t say I’m thrilled to have you here either,” he admitted. “Damian’s more than enough for me to handle.” Then, a frown of his own flitted over his face. “But I owed Talia a favor.”

Dick sniggered. He threw his long legs over the back of Bruce’s chair and let his head hang off the seat, his blue eyes flashing brighter for a second. While Talia had revoked Dick’s powers, some of his demonic attributes certainly remained.

“What did you do? Thought you were all justice and righteousness?” Then, Dick thought for a second. “Well, I suppose you do have a kid that’s half-demon, so I suppose you can’t be all that good.”

Bruce glared at him. “Just stay here for the rest of the day, will you?” he asked. “Don’t answer any calls, don’t touch any of my files, don’t try to get into my computer. Don’t even go out to use the restroom.”

“Aw, that’s harsh, B,” Dick said.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Bruce said. Then, he left the office, shutting his door behind him.

And so, Dick sat there, staring at the underside of Bruce’s desk, just waiting for the man to return. Talia herself had charmed the office so that Dick could not leave it without Bruce’s explicit permission. Dick’s pretty lips pulled into a sneer.

Despite being only a half-demon, he had exceptional powers. He was one of the few with the powers of seduction, and one of four incubus in all of Hell. Dick had prided himself in that, and maybe he was a little bit too proud.

He had gotten bored of seducing the weak humans one day and decided to test the limits of his abilities. Dick was often invited to the frequent parties of the princess of Hell – Talia. At one of those parties, while the princess herself was busy chatting with other boring, old demons, Dick worked on seducing one of her supposedly “cold, unmovable” bodyguards. It was almost too easy to distract him from his job, and they soon found themselves in one of the dark hallways of the palace, hands and tongues moving feverishly.

However, Dick’s fun did not last. Talia found them within ten minutes. She had been furious at the bodyguard for deserting his post, and she burned his eyes out right then and there before sending him to work in the fire pits for a hundred years.

Dick had been so sure that Talia would smite him as well, but instead, she pursed her lips and glared at him. In the end, she sentenced him to live in the human world, powerless. Dick did not know the terms of his exile, and he did not learn about them for six whole months (until that day, really).

On the second night of his horrible life in the human world, Dick found out that his powers, while mostly gone, were still kind of there. It took a bit more work, a few more sultry words, some batting of eyelashes, and he could still catch whoever he wanted. It became somewhat of a challenge for Dick.

While sex could no longer sustain him, it did make Dick feel less homesick. However, now he could not _have sex at all_ , or he would never return home.

Groaning aloud, Dick scrubbed at his eyes and glared harder at the bottom of Bruce’s mahogany desk. An _entire_ fucking year without sex.

Just then, a loud knock on the door shook Dick out of his thoughts.

He sat up and saw a very un-Bruce-like, a very un-Damian-like, a very un-secretary-like silhouette in the frosted glass of the door. Dick blinked, wondering who it could be. As far as he knew, no one ever visited _Bruce’s_ office. Bruce was _the_ head of the university. He had a whole bunch of people under him to take care of other stuff for him.

“Come in!” Dick called.

The door opened, and the tall figure stepped inside. Steel blue eyes met his, and immediately, Dick smirked.

“Well, hello there,” Dick purred. In one smooth turn, he swung his legs over the back of the chairs so he was in a sitting position. He crossed his legs and folded his hands on Bruce’s table.

“You’re not Wayne,” the man said in a gruff voice.

“I am not,” Dick admitted. “But I’m much better looking and much closer to you in age, I assure you.”

The man’s lips pressed together tightly, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I’ll just come back when he’s back.”

“Wait!” Dick said, jumping up and hurrying over. He grabbed the taller man’s arm and pulled himself into his personal space. His eyes flickered back up to the other man’s. He let a little bit of his remaining demon powers seep into his voice and his features. His eyes became a sharper, brighter, electric blue. “Don’t you wanna stay a while? While you wait?” he asked in a soft whisper. “With me?”

“No?” the man answered, staring at him uncomfortably. “Look, I’ll just come back when Wayne’s back, dude. No big deal.” He pulled his arm out of Dick’s grasp and started towards the door. He pulled it open, leaving Dick gaping after him. In the doorway, he turned around, and Dick thought that he had actually succeeded. “You’ve got… stuff on your shirt, by the way,” the man said with a grimace. Then, he left.

Dick let out an offended gasp. He had never been rejected so blatantly before. Sure, there had been men and women who had said no to him, and Dick usually did not push much further because he could see their lust and want in their eyes. But _this_ man, not even a spark of arousal!

Dick stomped back to Bruce’s chair and fumed until Bruce’s return an hour later.

~

“Did you really sit there for three hours?” Bruce asked, tossing his jacket over one of the chairs. “Wow. Nothing’s broken this time.”

“Some guy came looking for you,” Dick said, scowling and glaring at Bruce’s lamp.

“Oh? Who was it?”

“Hell if I know,” Dick growled. “He didn’t even _look_ at me.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean he _looked_ at me, but he- there was no-” Dick let out a frustrated scream. “He wasn’t interested!”

“Not everyone’s going to be interested in you, Dick,” Bruce said, rolling his sleeves up. “Who was it?”

“Even if he _was_ straight, there should be _some_ kind of lust in his eyes!” Dick ranted.

“Did you find out who it is?” Bruce asked again.

“I said, _I don’t know,_ ” Dick reiterated. “He was tall, dark hair, blue eyes, really stupidly fucking handsome for a human.” Then, Dick gasped. “Was he a demon? It was he’s a demon, wasn’t it? That’s why he could resist my powers? Because they’re weak right now?”

“Oh, that’s Jason,” Bruce said. “He probably came around for lunch with me. I texted him last week that I was busy this week though. Oh well.”

“So he’s human,” Dick said, slumping back down. “Fuck me. _Wait_ , you were going to go to lunch with him? But- he’s a student, B! He had a backpack and everything! You’re not dating a student, are you? Because that’s-”

“I’m not dating him, Dick!” Bruce said sharply. “He’s just a student that’s… a bit troubled sometimes,” he said. “He’s here on a scholarship from the Wayne Foundation. And… I fostered him for about a year when he was younger.”

“Wait… so he’s your _son?!”_

“ _No_ ,” Bruce huffed. “Not legally at least. But kind of.”

“ _What?!”_ Dick gasped, springing up. “You have more than one son?! Why didn’t you tell me, B? Do you know how boring it is around the Manor when there’s no one to talk to aside from Dami? And oh my god, he’s so _hot_. I’ve never seen him around the Manor. Can I go to lunch with him in your place? Can you give me a copy of his schedule? I’ll take all his classes. I’ll be good, I swear. I just need to find out why he wasn’t reacting to me. I need a second chance to seduce him.”

“No seducing,” Bruce said. “And no, you can’t do any of that. You’re staying here, and you’re going to be good, and that’s it.”

~

“Hey, Jason Todd!” Dick said, dropping into the empty seat in the back of the lecture hall next to Jason.

Jason shot him half a glare. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

Dick angled his body at Jason. He was wearing tight leather pants and a blue Hawaiian shirt, completely unbuttoned. He made sure to clench his muscles as he smiled sweetly at Jason.

“I’m Dick Grayson,” he purred.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick. “You’re the guy who was in Wayne’s office the other day.”

“Yeah!” Dick said, giddy that Jason remembered him. “I’m-”

Jason grabbed his books, phone, and backpack and stood up, moving away and sitting down four seats over.

Dick stared after him, his words clogging in his throat. He immediately stood and followed, firmly plopping down next to Jason again.

“As I was saying-”

Jason moved again, this time jumping over two rows to seat next to some girl who gave him a dirty look. Jason ignored her.

Dick was beyond bewildered. He climbed over two rows of seats as well and sat down on Jason’s other side.

“Why do you keep running away?” Dick asked. “C’mon, I just want to talk.”

Jason started to stand up again, but Dick grabbed his wrist. Jason glared down at him, their eyes meeting.

Immediately, Dick amped up his demon powers, causing his eyes to flash an ethereal blue. He paired it with a blinding smile.

Jason jerked his hand away like it was burned. “What the fuck, dude?” he asked. “Just leave me alone.”

He walked away, and this time, he left the lecture hall entirely. When Dick got over his second rejection and started to chase after Jason, the man was gone.

~

“It’s _so_ unfair, Dami!” Dick whined, throwing his arms around the teenager, who was attempting to study for his AP Stats test. He buried his face in Damian’s hair and nuzzled his face around.

“Unhand me, Grayson,” Damian grumbled, his voice mumbled from where Dick’s arm had wrapped around his face. “I must get my work done.”

“You don’t understand my _sorrows_! I’m suffering, Little D! He doesn’t even _look_ at me. He ran _away_ from me.”

“I would run away from you too if I could,” Damian said.

Dick ignored him. “I mean, I don’t know why he doesn’t like me. Am I suddenly ugly? No, I charmed the coffee shop lady to give me a free macchiato this morning. Then, I gave her a big tip because I think that would count as stealing and _apparently,_ I’m not supposed to steal. And I got her number… I digress. Anyway, it can’t be that! I’m as charming as ever! So _why_ won’t _Jason_ pay me any attention?!”

Damian grunted and pushed Dick’s arm away from his face. “Todd doesn’t like anyone.”

“But he has to like _me_. Everyone likes _me_. I mean, what’s not to-” Dick stopped. “Wait… how do _you_ know Jason?”

Damian had gone back to his homework.

“Damian!”

“What?” Damian hissed, spinning around. He crossed his arms and glared at Dick, his eyes were green tinged with red. “I’m busy, Grayson.”

“How do you know Jason?” Dick asked again.

Damian gave an exasperated sigh. “He’s around sometimes.”

 _“Here?!”_ Dick asked.

“If here is the Manor, then yes,” Damian said. “May I return to my work now?”

“Wha- but B said he’s _not_ dating Jason!”

Damian’s lip curled in disgust. “Father would never date that imbecile! I would never approve. Todd comes around when Pennyworth invites him over for tea.”

“But- How come I didn’t know about this?” Dick spluttered. “I’ve been here for nearly six months already!”

“I said _sometimes_ , Grayson,” Damian said. “As in, once or twice a year.”

“So- So if I can get Alfred to invite Jason over for _tea_ , perhaps I can corner him somewhere and find out just _why_ he’s immune to me!”

“Perhaps he just does not like you, Grayson.”

Dick scoffed, standing up. He ruffled Damian’s hair. “Everyone likes me, Dami. _Everyone_.”

“ _I_ don’t.”

Dick beamed. “Aw, Dami, you are still a horrible liar. I love you too.” Then, he skipped off to find Alfred.

Fortunately, Alfred did not ask _why_ Dick wanted him to invite Jason over for tea so badly. Unfortunately, Jason declined the offer, and Dick was back to square one.

~

The next day, Dick intercepted Jason as he came out of his Literature class.

“ _Hi_ , again,” Dick said immediately, falling into step next to Jason.

Jason huffed and picked up his pace. Dick did the same.

“Look, you _really_ don’t have to run away,” Dick said. “I just want to talk to you! You know, get more _acquainted_. My name’s Dick, and _heh_ , I’m no dick, but I’ve got a pretty- hey!”

Jason had turned quickly, going into the men’s bathroom.

Dick huffed and followed him inside onto to see Jason halfway out of the window.

“Jason! This is the second story!” Dick said.

Jason threw him a dirty glare before dropping down. Dick let out a little scream, running to the bathroom window, poking his head out of it. Jason was gone.

Dick pouted. Humans were a lot more elusive than he thought.

~

“I just- I don’t get it,” Dick huffed, sticking his lower lip out. “He’s handsome, sure, but there’s certainly more handsome men out there. He’s got that bad boy vibe, you know? And yeah, I’m into that and all, but it’s not like he’s the _only_ bad boy sex on legs there is in this world. I could go to pretty much any club or bar and get myself a carbon copy of him. So _I don’t know why I’m so obsessed about him_. Is it because he doesn’t find me fuckable? But I’m totally fuckable, right? I wasn’t too sure if I was still fuckable, so I just _had_ to go and seduce you to make sure you wanted to have sex with me. You think I’m fuckable, right?”

Dick looked down at the guy he was sitting on, the man’s hard cock deep in his ass and his hands on Dick’s hips.

The man groaned weakly. “ _Oh god_ , can you _please_ just- just move so I can come? I can’t- I can’t have this talk in the middle of sex, _please_.”

Dick sighed and went back to riding the man, still mildly troubled by his thoughts.

~

“Hey, can I sit here?” Dick asked sweetly.

Jason looked up from his book, and immediately, a scowl twisted onto his lips. “Sure,” he said. “I’m done anyway.”

Dick’s smile quickly diminished. “Wait! I meant, can I sit here… with you?” His fingers tapped the edge of the plastic tray of food.

He was supposed to be getting a book from the library for Bruce, but he passed the cafeteria and saw Jason sitting in there, reading by himself. All his previous attempts of “cornering” Jason had been entirely unsuccessful.

“Please?” Dick said, trying for another smile, more tentative than the one before.

Jason frowned at him for another ten seconds before sighing and nodding.

Dick had to force down his huge grin as he plopped down in front of him. However, as soon as he sat down, he had no idea what to say.

Before, Dick had just _said_ things. With most people, it did not really matter what Dick said because it all sounded sexy coming from him. He usually just gave his name so his partners know what name to scream when they climaxed, and maybe he would coerce them by buying a few drinks or ice cream or something.

But with Jason, Dick was completely lost. He had no idea what to say. If he said anything he usually said, Jason would be gone in a blink of an eye, and Dick was _finally_ just getting somewhere.

The fact that Jason had _agreed_ to suffer Dick’s presence was a huge step.

“So, what are you reading?” Dick asked, picking up a carrot stick and tapping it against his cup of ranch. He dipped it in and took a bite, sneering at the taste. Still, he chewed and swallowed.

Jason glared up at Dick again.

“Okay, I won’t bother you,” Dick said quickly.

Jason turned back to his book. Dick just sat across from him and slowly worked through his food. Six months on Earth, and Dick was still having a hard time adjusting to the fact that he had to _eat._ And on top of that, he was extremely picky. There were very little things that he liked.

He finished half of his grilled cheese sandwich and some of his tomato soup before going on to the only thing he had been looking forward to consuming. A bowl of dry Froot Loops.

Dick was halfway through his bowl when Jason looked up again, first at Dick’s cereal, then up at Dick.

Dick blinked back at him, his cheeks filled with the crunchy, artificially flavored circles of sugar.

“Seriously?” Jason asked in a dull tone.

“Wut,” Dick asked, chewing slowly, suddenly very much aware of his loud crunching. It took some difficulty to swallow his barely chewed cereal. “I like cereal,” he said a little defensively.

Jason sighed and shook his head. He closed his book. “What are you still doing here?” he asked.

“I… you said I could sit here.”

“I was hoping you’d get bored and leave,” Jason said irritably. “What do you want from me?”

Dick shrugged.

Jason glared at him. “Then I’m leaving.”

Dick bit his lip to keep him from calling after Jason. From his experience in the past couple of weeks, Jason only left faster.

Halfway across the cafeteria, Jason stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around again, giving Dick a suspicious look. Dick lifted a hand and gave Jason a small wave. Jason frowned harder and turned back around before slowly walking out of the cafeteria.

Dick nearly started squealing because he was finally making progress. Baby steps.

~

Dick managed to get himself to wait until dinner the following day so he would not scare away Jason again.

He was practically bouncing when he went to the cafeteria, immediately scanning for Jason. Jason was sitting in the corner again, leaning against the wall with his feel up on the chairs. He was reading again, a half eating sandwich next to him. Dick just grabbed a bowl of cereal and headed over.

“Hi, Jason!” he said cheerfully.

Jason glanced up and sighed heavily. “You again.”

“My name’s Dick,” Dick said, sitting down. “In case you forgot.”

“You tell me every time you see me. I remember,” Jason grumbled. He shut his book.

“You can keep reading,” Dick said with an encouraging smile. “I’m just here for your company.”

Jason frowned at him. He seemed to frown at Dick a lot. But frowning at him was better than turning his back and just walking away. “Why are you so insistent on my company?” Jason asked suspiciously. “I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

Dick did his best to keep his smile from twitching, even as he flinched slightly. “I- I know that,” he said quickly.

“Okay…” Jason said slowly, obviously wanting Dick to elaborate.

Dick scrambled for something to say. “I just- I wanna be friends,” he blurted out.

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Friends?”

Dick nodded quickly. “I don’t… I don’t know many people here. And the only person I actually talk to aside from B is his son, who is nearly t- ten years younger than I am.”

“Do you even go to this school?” Jason asked.

“Yes?”

“Really. What do you major in, then?”

“Of course! I’m… I’m here on a gymnastics scholarship.”

“We don’t have a competitive gymnastics team,” Jason pointed out.

“I’m special.”

Jason snorted. “If you didn’t want to tell me, you could’ve just _said_ so,” Jason muttered. He opened his book back up and turned back down to his pages.

Dick quickly slammed a box down onto the table between them. “I, uh, I got you something.”

Jason’s eyes flickered back to him. He looked at the present between them with a crappy wrapping job.

“What… is it?” Jason asked hesitantly.

Dick smiled. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

Jason glared at him. “Then I don’t want it.”

Dick huffed. “It’s- It’s tea,” he finally said. “Um, Alfred said you liked green tea.”

Jason blinked at Dick. “You got me green tea?”

“Yeah,” Dick said with a small smile. “It’s an… apology gift. For possibly coming on too strong at first.”

“You think?” Jason muttered under his breath, and Dick heard him perfectly fine. Jason slowly picked up the small box, glancing up at Dick’s hopeful face one more time before carefully ripping the ugly bright yellow wrapping paper off the box. Then, he stared at it the box of tea for a full thirty seconds straight. “Is this a fucking joke?” he asked flatly.

Dick’s eyes went wide. “Wh-What? No! Why would you think-”

“This is powdered, _instant_ iced tea dyed green. It’s not real green tea.”

“But it says it’s green tea!” Dick spluttered.

“And if I said I was a fairy princess right now, would you believe me?”

“N-No?” Dick said.

“Exactly.” Jason tossed the box of instant tea back to Dick. “You’ve obviously learned nothing from spending six months in the Manor,” he said. “Go hang out with Alfred more and stop bothering me.”

He picked up his book and left.

Dick watched Jason go, and for some strange reason, there was a painful clenching in his chest.

~

“Dick. _Dick_ ,” Bruce said again.

“Hm?” Dick asked, turning around from where he had been staring out of the window of Bruce’s office.

Bruce stared at him hard. “I’m going to order in lunch. Do you want anything?”

“Whatever’s okay,” Dick said, turning back to the window. He watched the students mill around the main quad area.

“Hey, Dick,” Bruce said again, frowning at Dick’s back. “Aren’t you feeling antsy? You’ve been in my office since this morning.”

“I’m fine,” Dick said with a sigh. He quirked a small smile and gave Bruce a look over his shoulder. “Glad you care though.”

Bruce pressed his lips together tighter. “Of course I care. Even though I’m just supposed to make sure you don’t get yourself killed while you’re exiled here, I’m not heartless.”

“Contrary to the belief of all your students,” Dick said half-heartedly.

Bruce sighed. “Alright, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Dick asked. “Nothing’s wrong.” He turned around again and cocked his head to the side. “What made you think anything was wrong?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at him. “Aside from the fact that you usually can’t stand being in my office for more than an hour? And all you’ve done is stared out that window? You didn’t even bother me today.”

Dick shrugged. “I’m practicing _kindness_.”

“Or you’re moping,” Bruce said.

Dick frowned. “I’m not _moping_.”

“Is it because of Jason again? Dick, he’s not interested in you. Big deal. Go find someone else to flirt with if you really must try seducing my students.”

“I wasn’t _seducing_ him,” Dick grumbled. “I was trying to befriend him. He rejected that too.”

“Jason isn’t exactly friendly. Even to me,” Bruce said. So there’s no surprise there.”

Dick pouted harder and did not respond.

“Seriously, Dick. I can’t work with you moping around my office.”

“You’re kicking me out?” Dick asked.

“I’m asking you to- to go get some fresh air. _Please._ For my sanity,” Bruce said.

Dick sighed and stood up. “Okay,” he said. He dragged himself past Bruce and to the door. “I’ll just…” He sighed again and just left.

Dick made his way across campus. Since dinner the night before, Dick had been a little bit miserable. One of the things he did not like about basically becoming human was the fact that he now had _feelings._ A lot of the feelings Dick had no idea how to explain to what they meant. He tried to limit his feelings to horny and happy.

He did not the uncomfortable squeezing feeling in his chest. Dick was also unhappy about the fact that when his mind conjured up Jason’s frown now, it did not make Dick smile. No, it made Dick want to match Jason’s scowl.

He sighed and kept trudging along, his head down. Suddenly, he ran head on into someone. Dick grunted as he fell over onto his butt. As Dick looked up into the blinding sun, unable to see anything beyond a dark silhouette of a man.

“Some gymnast you are,” Jason’s voice snorted. Then, a hand was extended towards him.

Dick stared at Jason’s hand for a few seconds. He slowly reached out and took it. When Jason pulled him up, Dick was still marveling about the fact that Jason’s hands were rougher than he had imagined. He swallowed back his dirty thoughts.

“Sorry,” Dick said, giving Jason a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t watching.”

“Obviously,” Jason said.

Dick shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he said, not knowing what else to say. He did not really _feel_ like talking to Jason. It was a surprising difference from how he had felt two weeks ago when he first saw Jason. “You… probably have class to get to,” Dick said, despite knowing Jason’s schedule by heart. He gave Jason another tight smile before turning and walking away.

Dick could feel Jason’s eyes on his back for a long time after he started to go.

Maybe it was because this was the first time Dick had walked away.

Maybe it was because he was staring at Dick’s ass. Normally, that would have made Dick move his hips more as he walked, but instead, he just pulled his sweatshirt down more and walked a little faster.

~

It was late that Saturday, and Dick had just gotten out of bed. Damian was at his archery lessons, and Bruce was at the university. Alfred was probably out running errands, so Dick had the Manor to himself.

He did not know why they trusted Dick, _a demon_ , to be alone in the Manor, but it had been such a

* * *

**Abrupt ending, I know. I wish I could write more because I do love this one, but I don't have the time sadly. And I accidentally unpublished this and would not have realized until someone brought it up, so thank you! <3**

**~5.3k**

 

 


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